murakami, haruki - Norwegian wood

ed and held it by the tip of his penis. Afterwards I emptied the jar
into the toilet and washed it out. Then I went back to the sickroom and
finished my tea.
"How are you feeling?" I asked.
he said.
"Hurts?"
he said with a slight frown.
"Well, no wonder, you've just had an operation. Of course, I've never
had one, so I don't know what it's like." he said.
"Ticket? What ticket?"
he said. .
I had no idea what he was talking about, and just kept quiet. He stayed
silent for a time, too. Then he seemed to say . He opened his
eyes wide and looked at me hard. I guessed that he was trying to tell
me something, but I couldn't begin to imagine what it was.
he said. .
"Ueno Station?"
He gave a little nod.
I tried to summarize what he was getting at: "Ticket, Midori, please,
Ueno Station," but I had no idea what it meant. I assumed his mind
was muddled, but compared with before his eyes now had a terrible
clarity. He raised the arm that was free of the intravenous contraption
and stretched it towards me. This must have been a major effort for
him, the way the hand trembled in mid-air. I stood and grasped his
frail, wrinkled hand. He returned my grasp with what little strength he
could muster and said again .
"Don't worry," I said. "I'll take care of the ticket and Midori, too." He
let his hand drop back to the bed and closed his eyes. Then, with a
loud rush of breath, he fell asleep. I checked to make sure he was still
alive, then went out to boil more water for tea. As I was sipping the
hot liquid, I realized that I had developed a kind of liking for this little
man on the verge of death.
230