The New Yorker: Fiction cover image

Bryan Washington Reads Haruki Murakami

The New Yorker: Fiction

CHAPTER

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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