murakami, haruki - Norwegian wood

eyond the window cast a soft white glow, like moonlight, over the
room. Midori slept with her back to the light. She lay so perfectly still,
she might have been frozen stiff. Bending over, I caught the sound of
her breathing. She slept just like her father.
The suitcase from her recent travels stood by the bed. Her white coat
hung on the back of a chair. Her desktop was neatly arranged, and on
the wall over it hung a Snoopy calendar. I nudged the curtain aside
and looked down at the deserted shops. Every shop was closed, their
metal shutters down, the vending machines hunched in front of the
off-licence the only sign of something waiting for the dawn. The moan
of longdistance lorry tyres sent a deep shudder through the air every
now and then. I went back to the kitchen, poured myself another shot
of brandy, and went on reading Beneath the Wheel.
By the time I had finished it the sky was growing light. I made myself
some instant coffee and used some notepaper and a ballpoint pen I
found on the table to write a message to Midori: I drank some of your
brandy. I bought a copy of Beneath the Wheel. It's light outside, so I'm
going home. Goodbye. Then, after some hesitation, I wrote: You look
really cute when you're sleeping. I washed my coffee cup, switched
off the kitchen light, went downstairs, quietly lifted the shutter, and
stepped outside. I worried that a neighbour might find me suspicious,
but there was no one on the street at 5.50-something in the morning.
Only the crows were on their usual rooftop perch, glaring down at the
street. I glanced up at the pale pink curtains in Midori's window,
walked to the tram stop, rode to the end of the line, and walked to my
dorm. On the way I found an open cafe and ate a breakfast of rice and
miso soup, pickled vegetables and fried eggs. Circling around to the
back of the dorm, I tapped on Nagasawa's ground-floor window. He
let me in immediately.
"Coffee?" he asked.
"Nah."
I thanked him, went up to my room, brushed my teeth, took my
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