murakami, haruki - Norwegian wood

call," I said. 'As long as lunch is included."
"Great," she said. "I'll arrange another fire for dessert."
Midori didn't come to the next day's History of Drama lecture. I went
to the cafeteria afterwards and ate a cold, tasteless lunch alone. Then I
sat in the sun and observed the campus scene. Two women students
next to me were carrying on a long conversation, standing the whole
time. One cradled a tennis racquet to her breast with all the loving care
she might give a baby, while the other held some books and a Leonard
Bernstein LP Both were pretty and obviously enjoying their
discussion. From the direction of the student club building came the
sound of a bass voice practising scales. Here and there stood groups of
four or five students expressing whatever opinions they happened to
hold, laughing and shouting to one another. There were skateboarders
in the car park. A professor with a leather briefcase in his arms
crossed the car park, avoiding them. In the quadrangle a helmeted girl
student knelt on the ground, painting huge characters on a sign with
something about American imperialism invading Asia. It was the
usual midday university scene, but as I sat watching it with renewed
attention, I became aware of something. In his or her own way,
everyone I saw before me looked happy. Whether they were really
happy or just looked it, I couldn't tell. But they did look happy on this
pleasant early afternoon in late September, and because of that I felt a
kind of loneliness new to me, as if I were the only one here who was
not truly part of the scene.
Come to think of it, what scene had I been a part of in recent years?
The last one I could remember was a pool hall near the harbour, where
Kizuki and I played pool together in a spirit of total friendship. Kizuki
died that night, and ever since a cold, stiffening wind had come
between me and the world. This boy Kizuki: what had his existence
meant to me? To this question I could find no answer. All I knew -
with absolute certainty - was that Kizuki's death had robbed me for
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