murakami, haruki - Norwegian wood

At 11.30 Nagasawa was ready to give up. "Sorry I dragged you around
for nothing," he said.
"No problem," I said. "It was worth it to me just to see you have your
off days sometimes, too."
"Maybe once a year," he admitted.
In fact, I didn't care about getting laid any more. Wandering around
Shinjuku on a noisy Saturday night, observing the mysterious energy
created by a mixture of sex and alcohol, I began to feel that my own
desire was a puny thing.
"What are you going to do now, Watanabe?"
"Maybe go to an all-nighter," I said. "I haven't seen a film in ages."
"I'll be going to Hatsumi's then," said Nagasawa. "Do you mind?"
"No way," I said. "Why should I mind?"
"If you'd like, I could introduce you to a girl who'd let you spend the
night."
"Nah, I really am in the mood for a film."
"Sorry," said Nagasawa. "I'll make it up to you some time." And he
disappeared into the crowd. I went into a fast food place for a
cheeseburger and some coffee to kill the buzz, then went to see The
Graduate in an old rep house. I didn't think it was all that good, but I
didn't have anything better to do, so I stayed and watched it again.
Emerging from the cinema at four in the morning, I wandered along
the chilly streets of Shinjuku, thinking.
When I tired of walking, I went to an all-night café and waited with a
book and a cup of coffee for the morning trains to start. Before long,
the place became crowded with people who, like me, were waiting for
those first trains. A waiter came to ask me apologetically if I would
mind sharing my table. I said it would be all right. It didn't matter to
me who sat across from me: I was just reading a book.
My companions at the table turned out to be two girls. They looked
about my age. Neither of them was a knockout, but they weren't bad.
Both were reserved in the way they dressed and made up: they were
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