
Bryan Washington Reads Haruki Murakami
The New Yorker: Fiction
Shima's Wife Left a No, Didn't You?
Shima said, after several failed attempts to have sex with shama, comoda gave up. She mal pressed her ear against his naked chest. Comodo lifted himself from the mattress and looked down at the woman, tiny nose moles on her ear lobe. In the room's silent, his heart beat with a loud, dry sound. Images of it had come to him one after another, as if in a slide show, flashing on the screen and fading away. He couldn't break the chain of silent images.
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