murakami, haruki - Norwegian wood

Nihonbashi."
"Why there of all places?"
"I like to go there sometimes, that's all."
And so we took the subway to Nihonbashi. The place was practically
empty, maybe because it had been raining all morning. The smell of
rain filled the big, cavernous department store, and all the employees
had that what-do-we-do-now? kind of look. Midori and I went to the
basement restaurant and, after a close inspection of the plastic food in
the window, both decided to have an old-fashioned cold lunch
assortment with rice and pickles and grilled fish and
tempura and teriyaki chicken. Inside, it was far from crowded despite
it being midday.
"God, how long has it been since I last had lunch in a departmentstore
restaurant?" I wondered aloud, drinking green tea from one of
those slick, white cups you only get in a department-store restaurant.
"I like to do stuff like this," said Midori. "I don't know, it makes me
feel like I'm doing something special. Probably reminds me of when I
was a kid. My parents almost never took me to department stores."
"And I get the sneaking suspicion that's all mine ever did. My mother
was crazy about them."
"Lucky you!"
"What are you talking about? I don't particularly like going to
department stores."
"No, I mean, you were lucky they cared enough about you to take you
places.'-"
"Well, I was an only child," I said.
"When I was little I used to dream about going to a department-store
restaurant all by myself when I grew up and eating anything I liked.
But what an empty dream! What's the fun of cramming your mouth
full of rice all alone in a place like this? The food's not all that great,
and it's just big and crowded and stuffy and noisy. Still, every once in
a while I think about coming here."
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