January 13, 2007
Page 16
I don't really know much about her childhood. I suppose someone must have learned about it, probably having heard it from her own mouth in bed. She ran away from home (incidentally dropping out of school) the summer of her first year in high school after a big fight with her father, or something like that. Nobody knows where on earth she lived or how she made a living.
She sat in a chair in the rock cafe all day, drinking countless cups of coffee and smoking endless cigarettes. She'd wind through the pages of a book while waiting for someone to materialize and pay her bill, which was no mean sum for us back in the day. She usually slept with them. That was all I knew about her.
From the fall of that year through the spring of the next, every week on Tuesday evening she'd visit my apartment on the outskirts of Mitaka. She'd eat a simple dinner I'd make and we'd turn up the FEN rock show on TV and listen to it while having sex.
Posted by tim at January 13, 2007 08:45 PM
Comments
Post a comment
Thanks for signing in, . Now you can comment. (sign out)
(If you haven't left a comment here before, you may need to be approved by the site owner before your comment will appear. Until then, it won't appear on the entry. Thanks for waiting.)