good surf, and formed a rock band ered at a second-rate private college, but to campus and s of graduating. s ran an old respected ssy of Mito, and resort, but ention of settling dosed o ride around sun truck, surf, and play tar in teur band—an easygoing lifestyle t anyone could see going to last forever.
Junko got friendly er so be in ies—a small, slim guy
by sundoo e, sneakers. In er, on a creased leat and sometimes a baseball cap. Junko fit. Everytlessly clean.
Speakers of t nonexistent in ticed Miyake. “ed old Junko. “s pictures. I don’t tuff. But o manage. o tokyo sometimes and comes back late in ting supplies or somet knoalk muc a bad guy.”
Miyake o tore at least times a day. In t noon, er day. civilities, but so er a while.
ore one morning, sook a c en, even if buy lots of milk and beer and keep it in tor? ouldn’t t be more convenient? Of course, it o tore people, but still . . .
“Yea,” ’d make more sense to stock up, but I can’t.”
“?” Junko asked.
“ell, it’s just, like—I can’t, t’s all.”
“I didn’t mean to pry or anyt let it bot’s just t ions mean any .”
Miyake ated a moment, scratcy, ell you trut or. I don’t like refrigerators.”
Junko smiled. “I don’t like refrigerators myself, but I do it kind of inconvenient not having one?”
“Sure it’s inconvenient, but I e t can I do? I can’t sleep at nigor around.”
a Junko. But noed in han ever.
alking on ter, Junko saending a bonfire, alone. It o Miyake, t tanding beside aller. traded simple greetings, t all as tared at the fire.
It time t Junko felt a certain “sometc , because it oo raoo oo real to be called an idea. It coursed t-sad, c-gripping, strange sort of feeling. For a time after it had gone, she had goose flesh on her arms.
“tell me, Mr. Miyake, range?”
“how so?”
“I don’t kno’s like all of a sudden you get very clear about somet usually notice in everyday life. I don’t