No one could come between her and the wind, he realized, and he felt a violent rush of jealousy. But jealousy toward what? The wind? Who could possibly be jealous of the wind?
...Should I add her to the countdown? Was she one of my three women with real meaning? [He] agonized over the question for some time without reaching a conclusion. I'll wait another six months, he thought. Then I'll decide.
During that six months, he wrote with great concentration and produced a large number of short stories. As he sat at his desk polishing the style, he would think, [She] is probably in some high place with the wind right now. Here I am, alone at my desk writing stories, while she's all alone somewhere, up higher than anyone else- without a lifeline. Once she enters that state of concentration, all fear is gone: "Just me and the wind."
...As the year came to an end, [he] made up his mind. He would count her as number two. She was one of the women who "had real meaning" for him. Strike two. Only one left. But he was no longer afraid. Numbers aren't the important thing. The countdown has no meaning. Now he knew: What matters is deciding in your heart to accept another person completely. And it always has to be the first time and the last.
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T H E K I D N E Y - S H A P E D S T O N E
MURAKAMI (blind willow † sleeping woman, 307-8)
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