Nanami holds both hands up beside her chin in a playful double v-sign, her right one a polydactyl hand whose six slim fingers spread naturally down to the knuckles and short bare nails, the two raised fingers angled outward and the remaining four folded loosely into her palm. She is Japanese, early twenties, light warm-toned skin catching the light, her slight build swallowed by an oversized heather-grey crewneck sweatshirt with the sleeves shoved up past her forearms, a plain white tee collar showing at the neckline in the low-key everyday style she wears without thinking about it. Her straight black shoulder-length hair falls to her collarbones with a blunt fringe just above her eyebrows, one side tucked behind an ear where two small silver hoops sit; a thin silver band rides the middle finger of her left hand. Her mouth curves into a closed half-smile, eyes squinting slightly into the burst of light. Behind her the coin laundry sits nearly empty just before midnight, banks of front-loading machines cropped tight at the frame edges, a folding counter stacked with three of someone's mesh laundry bags, scuffed linoleum running out of frame below, and a taped-up notice about closing hours flattened against the glass door. Shot on an iPhone 8, a tight handheld close-up from a couple of feet away at chest height, her hands and face filling the frame, the fixed 28mm-equivalent wide bending the corners mildly and holding everything nearly flat in focus. Direct on-camera flash blows out her raised knuckles and throws a hard shadow onto the wall behind her shoulder, rendering the room in soft digital detail and flat cool colour with faint luminance grain gathering in the corners.