Star gazing in daylight.
A light brown ring, an impression made most possibly by a wet teacup, sat conspicuously on one of her darling book covers. She ran her finger around the outline and pictured her rather careless partner using the book as a coaster, likely while watching Top Gear. She hadn’t noticed the stain before. The book looked seemingly uncomfortable, sandwiched between two others from a genre, she cared little about. To leave a Murakami in between two managemen t books was akin to leaving him amongst her pot-smoking friends discussing the futility of earning money. Or for him to leave her amidst his single-malt drinking friends discussing golf or even worse, the stock market. She pulled it out and set it free. That’s when she noticed the tea-cup stain. Taking the blemished book in her hands, she opened it and read a few lines. Kumiko wanted her unemployed husband to look for their cat. Toru was in the alley looking for it. She shut the book and set it aside. She looked up and stared har
