murakami, haruki - Norwegian wood

As if somebody had thrown me into a crowd all naked." "Makes
sense," I said, eating the last of my omelette. She watched me with
intense interest.
"You don't have to go back to them?" I asked, indicating her three
companions.
"Nah. I'll go back when they serve the food. Am I interrupting your
meal?"
"There's nothing left to interrupt," I said, ordering coffee when she
showed no sign of leaving. The wife took my dishes and brought milk
and sugar.
"Now you tell me," she said. "Why didn't you answer today when they
called the register? You are Watanabe, aren't you?
Toru Watanabe?"
"That's me."
"So why didn't you answer?" "I just didn't feel like it today."
She took off her sunglasses again, set them on the table, and looked at
me as if she were staring into the cage of some rare animal at a zoo.
"I just didn't feel like it today." You talk like Humphrey Bogart. Cool.
Tough."
"Don't be silly. I'm just an ordinary guy like everybody else."
The wife brought my coffee and set it on the table. I took a sip without
adding sugar or milk.
"Look at that. You drink it black."
"It's got nothing to do with Humphrey Bogart," I explained patiently.
"I just don't happen to have a sweet tooth. I think you've got me all
wrong."
"Why are you so tanned?"
"I've been hiking around the last couple of weeks. Rucksack. Sleeping
bag."
"Where'd you go?"
"Kanazawa. Noto Peninsula. Up to Niigata." "Alone?"
"Alone," I said. "Found some company here and there." "Some
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