The New Yorker: Fiction cover image

Andrea Lee Reads Haruki Murakami

The New Yorker: Fiction

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The Strauss Waltz

Myles davis was over and a collection of straus es began to play. After we'd finished the first joint, she said she was sleepy. She hadn't gotten enough rest the night before,. The three beers and the grass knocked her out. Given a choice, i'd rather have snuggled up next to her in bed and taken a good nap. But that was out. I smoked the second joint with him. It was something. For some reason, i remembered a play we'd done back in grade school. A baby fox comes in looking for gloves, but he doesn't have enough money to buy them. Save up your money and come back later, if you do

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