murakami, haruki - Norwegian wood

omantic company? New women in far-off places." "Romantic? Now I
know you've got me wrong. How's a guy with a sleeping bag on his
back and his face all stubbly supposed to have romance?"
"Do you always travel alone like that?" "Uh-huh."
"You enjoy solitude?" she asked, resting her cheek on her hand.
"Travelling alone, eating alone, sitting by yourself in lecture halls ..."
"Nobody likes being alone that much. I don't go out of my way to
make friends, that's all. It just leads to disappointment."
The tip of one earpiece in her mouth, sunglasses dangling down, she
mumbled, ""Nobody likes being alone. I just hate to be disappointed.'
You can use that line if you ever write your autobiography."
"Thanks," I said.
"Do you like green?"
"Why do you ask?"
"You're wearing a green polo shirt."
"Not especially. I'll wear anything."
""Not especially. I'll wear anything.' I love the way you talk. Like
spreading plaster, nice and smooth. Has anybody ever told you that?"
"Nobody," I said.
"My name's Midori," she said. ""Green'. But green looks terrible on
me. Weird, huh? It's like I'm cursed, don't you think? My sister's name
is Momoko: "Peach girl'."
"Does she look good in pink?"
"She looks great in pink! She was born to wear pink. It's totally
unfair."
The food arrived at Midori's table, and a guy in a madras jacket called
out to her, "Hey, Midori, come 'n' get it!" She waved at him as if to
say "I know".
"Tell me," she said. "Do you take lecture notes? In drama?" "I do."
"I hate to ask, but could I borrow your notes? I've missed twice, and I
don't know anybody in the class." "No problem," I said, pulling the
notebook from my bag.
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