Not buying any of it, I tucked all of the Polaroid shots into my purse and hastily left. I believe Hideki tried to run after me but failed because, as I departed, I heard the sound of IKEA furniture being collided with, a body thumping heavily onto the hardwood floor and Hideki swearing his head off, in French this time. To his credit, the man speaks at least five languages, or, at least, knows how to swear in them.
With Hideki now babbling incoherently, yet convincingly, in high German (I know it was high because I studied a bit in university), I ran out of the house and into the cool night outside with the rare photographs of the reclusive Hideki safely tucked away.
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