Sunday, April 11, 2010

Sunday actually lived up to its name today, and although we had the day off, rode bikes, drank beer and counted church towers, some complicated kissing works any day of the week.
It was a soft and gentle kiss, one not meant to lead beyond itself. I would probably not have kissed Midori that day if we hadn't spent the afternoon on the laundry deck in the sun, drinking beer and watching a fire, and she probably felt the same. After a long time of watching the glittering rooftops and the smoke and the red dragonflies and other things, we had felt something warm and close, and we both probably wanted, half-consciously, to preserve that mood in some form. It was that kind of kiss. But as with all kisses, it was not without a certain element of danger.
The first one to speak was Midori. She held my hand and told me, with what seem like some difficulty, that she was seeing someone. I said that I had sensed as much.
"Do you have a girl you like?" she asked.
"I do," I said.
"But you're always free on Sundays, right?"
"It's very complicated," I said.

Excerpt from Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami, 2000.