“So after he died, I didn’t know what it meant to love another person.”
She reached for her wineglass on the table but only managed to knock it over, spilling wine on the carpet. I crouched down and retrived the glass, setting it on the table. Did she want to drink some more? I asked. Naoko remained silent for a while., then suddenly burst into tears, trembling all over. Slumping forward, she same suffocating violence as she had that night with me.
from Haruki Murakami “Norwegian Wood” (Translated by Jay Rubin)”