"let's enjoy refreshing time"

I want to try a manga-kissa next time I've got a day to myself in Osaka, especially if I can find a no-smoking one. Though unfailingly providing no-smoking environment, Starbucks in Japan are way too busy to be relaxing; the social pressure to get up and leave because there is a long line of people waiting is overwhelming. There is a three-story sutaa-baa in Shinsaibashi that has a line that regularly fills the stairwell leading to each of its three floors. I find it hard to relax over coffee and a book when there is a human fire hazard glowering at me.
(The subject is random Engrish from a beverage machine I saw when I first moved to Japan.)

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dan simmons’ fiction

“I came back for my own purposes,” said the Time Traveler, looking around my booklined study. “I chose you to talk to because it was . . . convenient. And I don’t want you to do a goddamned thing. There’s nothing you can do. But relax . . . we’re not going to be talking about personal things. Such as, say, the year, day, and hour of your death. I don’t even know that sort of trivial information, although I could look it up quickly enough. You can release that white-knuckled grip you have on the edge of your desk.” I tried to relax. “What do you want to talk about?” I said. “The Century War,” said the Time Traveler. I blinked and tried to remember some history. “You mean the Hundred Year War? Fifteenth Century? Fourteenth? Sometime around there. Between . . . France and England? Henry V? Kenneth Branagh? Or was it . . .” “I mean the Century War with Islam,” interrupted the Time Traveler. “Your future. Everyone’s.” He was no longer smiling. Without asking, or offering to pour me any, he

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