
Andrea Lee Reads Haruki Murakami
The New Yorker: Fiction
A Young Man Who's a Riding Riddle
"I saw him again several times after that. Whenever i ran into her there, he'd be right beside her." He drove a silver sports car german and looked like it belonged in a black, white fillini film. "You have no idea what he does really, but he never seems to be hurting for money".
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