murakami, haruki - Norwegian wood

"I'm sure I'll be fine."
"So, that settles it," said Reiko. "We'll be back around five. Naoko and
I both have things to do until then. Do you mind staying here alone?"
"Not at all. I'll study my German."
When Reiko left, I stretched out on the sofa and closed my eyes. I lay
there steeping myself in the silence when, out of nowhere, I thought of
the time Kizuki and I went on a motorbike ride. That had been
autumn, too, I realized. Autumn how many years ago? Yes, four. I
recalled the smell of Kizuki's leather jacket and the racket made by
that red Yamaha 125cc bike. We went to a spot far down the coast,
and came back the same evening, exhausted. Nothing special
happened on the way, but I remembered it well. The sharp autumn
wind moaned in my ears, and looking up at the sky, my hands
clutching Kizuki's jacket, I felt as if I might be swept into outer space.
I lay there for a long time, letting my mind wander from one memory
to another. For some strange reason, lying in this room seemed to
bring back old memories that I had rarely if ever recalled before.
Some of them were pleasant, but others carried a trace of sadness.
How long did this go on? I was so immersed in that torrent of memory
(and it was a torrent, like a spring gushing out of the rocks) that I
failed to notice Naoko quietly open the door and come in. I opened my
eyes, and there she was. I raised my head and looked into her eyes for
a time. She was sitting on the arm of the sofa, looking at me. At first I
thought she might be an image spun into existence by my own
memories. But it was the real Naoko.
"Sleeping?" she whispered.
"No," I said, "just thinking." I sat up and asked, "How are you?"
"I'm good," she said with a little smile like a pale, distant scene. "I
don't have much time, though. I'm not supposed to be here now. I just
got away for a minute, and I have to go back right away. Don't you
hate my hair?"
"Not at all," I said. "It's cute." Her hair was in a simple schoolgirl
124