Junko celevisis uitar. ig a fast passage and obviously he receiver.

        “Did I wake you?” Miyake asked in .

        “Naill up.”

        “I’m at time.    you e down?”

        “Sure,” Junko said. “Let me    minutes.”

        Sigop surtleneck ser, and suffed a pack of cigarettes into t of . Purse, matc. ore off his headphones.

        “I’m going for a bonfire on the beach,” she said.

        “Miyake again?” Keisuke asked    to be kidding. It’s February, you kno nigo go make a bonfire now?”

        “t’s okay, you don’t o e. I’ll go by myself.”

        Keisuke sige to ge.”

        urned off    on pants, a ser, and a do, ted .

        “You guys are crazy,” Keisuke said as took to t’s so great about bonfires?”

        t    t all. ords left to hang frozen in midair.

        “’s so great about Pearl Jam?” Junko said. “Just a lot of noise.”

        “Pearl Jam en million fans all over the world,” Keisuke said.

        “ell, bonfires y thousand years,” Junko said.

        “You’ve got somethere,” Keisuke said.

        “People will be liger Pearl Jam is gone.”

        “You’ve got sometoo.” Keisuke pulled     of    and put rouble is, I don’t o do y ty t’s important is    matters is omao it up rig?”

        teps to top of ter. Miyake ing drift t to t.

        t of transformed to a ser rangely he beach.

        “Pretty good, e breath.

        “Incredible!” Junko said.

        “t stormy day ely, I    tell from today some great fireo wash up.’ ”

        “Okay, okay, ’s get ’s so damn cold, it’s enougo shrivel your balls.”

        “ake it easy. t o do t you’ve got to plan it. And    all arranged so it’ll    a c it slo rus. ‘tient beggar earns his keep.’ ”

        “Yeaient hooker earns her keep.”

        Miyake soo young to be making sucime,” he said.

        Miyake erlag til o resemble some kind of avant-garde sculpture. Stepping back a feructed, adjust some of to ting times. As al to begin al images of tlest movement of tor    imagione.

        Miyake took ime, but once o isfa, o say to ’s it: perfeext, s of ne    along, slipped t ttom of t tic cigarette ligook tes from , put one in ruck a matcared at Miyake’s : t-stopping moment of tc erupt in giant flames?

        tared in sile tain of drifts of    out. After t t didn’t    Junko. t ter t looked.

        Se smoke s up from to disperse it, traigo    fire someill there was no sign of flames.

        No one said a alkative Keisuke kept    tig pockets. Miyake , cigarette in    occasionally, as if suddenly recalling t it here.

        As usual, Junko t about Jack London’s “to Build a Fire.” It ory of a man traveling aloerior as to ligo deat catc read mu, but t one s story seac as an essay topic during tion of    year in ory o mind as s as    important of all, t t tally longing for deat for sure. S explain    s from tart. Deat ed.    it    ending for    o go on fig. o fig an over sed tradi.

        teac ed? t’s a nerange! Quite ‘inal,’ I’d o say.” he class, and everybody laughed.

        But Junko kneory be so quiet aiful?

        “Uured, “don’t you t?”

        “Don’t ’s caug’s just getting ready to flare up. See ’s smoking? You knohere’s fire.’ ”

        “ell, you knohere’s a hard-on.’ ”

        “Is t all you ever talk about?”

        “No, but     go?”

        “I just kno’s going to flare up.”

        “o master suc, Mr. Miyake?”

        “I    call it an ‘art.’ I lear    or not, you learo kno building a fire.”

        “I see,” said Keisuke. “A Boy Scout, huh?”

        “t’s not tory, of course. I alent, too. I don’t mean t, but o making a bonfire I alent t most folks just don’t have.”

        “It must give you a lot of pleasure, but I don’t suppose talent of yours makes you lots of money.”

        “true.    all,” Miyake said h a smile.

        As ed, a feo flicker at ter of t crag sound. Junko let out a long-o . to stretc t fees to be do to ctle by little, trengty t    like t to t Junko.

        “I uand you’re from Kobe, Mr. Miyake,” Keisuke said in a c o ives or somet month?”

        “I’m not sure,” said Miyake. “I don’t ies    for years.”

        “Years? ell, you sure    lost your Kansai at.”

        “No? I ’t tell, myself.”

        “I do declare, you must be joking,” said Keisuke in exaggerated Kansai tones.

        “Cut t, Keisuke. t t t to talk to me in a p. You eastern farm boys ter off tearing around on your motorcycles during the slack season.”

        “ guy, but you’ve got one    ‘Ibaragi.’ All you Kansai types are ready to put us eastern ‘farm boys’ do t. I give up,” Keisuke said. “But seriously, t ? You must V?”

        “Let’s c,” Miyake said. “hiskey?”

        “You bet.”

        “Jun?”

        “Just a little,” Junko said.

        Miyake pulled a tal flask from t of    and    to Keisuke, ed off to    touco t down and sucked in a sh.

        “t is great!”    to be a ty-one-year-old single malt! Super stuff! Aged in oak. You    tish angels.”

        “Give me a break, Keisuke. It’s t Suntory you    buy.”

        it urn. Sook ttle into tried a feiny sips. S cer t special    to omacouc, Miyake took one quiet s all at once, but in sloages. t    t Miyake’s bo ale, like an expert caress,    it—to eople’s s.

        Junko never said muced all tood, and fave. A family, a real family, .

        Junko came to touffed all to a Boston bag, and run arain to t at random until sokorozao ttle seaside spot in Ibaraki Prefecture, a toor’s across from tatio, and took a job at a venieore on t o e: Don’t    me, and please don’t look for me, I’m doing fine.

        So deat stand t of ten on tle. O proud and strong to reet    ed ary sco groo sed to look at range neer s-six in to    all.

        Plus, o boast about. op of ered middle s time it    tom, and s into    to say t supid: s couldn’t trate. Sarted. ried to trate,     o breat became irregular. Attending sce torture.

        Not long after stled in to surfer. all, dyed iful straigeettled in Ibaraki for its good surf, and formed a rock band ered at a sed-rate private college, but    to campus and s of graduating. s ran an old respected ssy of Mito, and    resort, but ention of settling dosed o ride around sun truck, surf, and play tar in teur band—an easygoing lifestyle t anyone could see    going to last forever.

        Junko got friendly er so be in ies—a small, slim guy        by sundoo    e,    sneakers. In er,    on a creased leat and sometimes a baseball cap. Junko fit. Everytlessly .

        Speakers of t    ent in ticed Miyake. “ed    old Junko. “s pictures. I don’t tuff. But o manage. o tokyo sometimes and es back late in ting supplies or somet knoalk muc    a bad guy.”

        Miyake o tore at least times a day. In t noon, er day.    civilities, but so er a while.

        ore one m, sook a , even if     buy lots of milk and beer and keep it in tor? ouldn’t t be more ve? Of course, it o tore people, but still . . .

        “Yea,” ’d make more seo stock up, but I ’t.”

        “?” Junko asked.

        “ell, it’s just, like—I ’t, t’s all.”

        “I didn’t mean to pry or anyt let it bot’s just t ions    mean any .”

        Miyake ated a moment, scratcy, ell you trut or. I don’t like refrigerators.”

        Junko smiled. “I don’t like refrigerators myself, but I do    it kind of inve not having one?”

        “Sure it’s inve, but I e t    I do? I ’t sleep at nigor around.”

        a    Junko. But noed in han ever.

        alking on ter, Junko saending a bonfire, alo o Miyake, t tanding beside aller. traded simple greetings, t all as tared at the fire.

        It    time t Junko felt a certain “sometc , because it oo raoo oo real to be called an idea. It coursed t-sad, c-gripping, strange sort of feeling. For a time after it had gone, she had goose flesh on her arms.

        “tell me, Mr. Miyake, range?”

        “how so?”

        “I don’t kno’s like all of a sudden you get very clear about somet usually noti everyday life. I don’t kno it, I’m not smart enoug c t kind of feeling.”

        Miyake t about it as to be. It’s free. So it    look like anyt all depending on    it. If you get t kind of feeling ’s because it’s s kind of feeling you    I mean?”

        “Uh-huh.”

        “But it doesn’t    any fire. For someto self o be free. It    ove or a cigarette lig    even o be free, you’ve got to make it in t kind of place.    easy. Not just anybody    do it.”

        “But you    do it, Mr. Miyake?”

        “Sometimes I , sometimes I ’t. Most of time, I . If I really put my mind to it, I pretty much .”

        “You like bonfires, don’t you?”

        Miyake nodded. “It’s almost a siess o live in t noto’s because ts more drift’s t o make bonfires. Kind of pointless, huh?”

        er t, Junko . Sometimes imes    one. ermined by t of drift    Miyake ion.    her “bonfire buddy.”

        to t log, and no last ttling in for a long burn. Junko loared at t tiged t care, using a long branco keep too quickly or losing strengtoss it in w was needed.

        Keisuke annou omac’ve caug need a crap.”

        “ you go ?” Junko said.

        “Yea you?”

        “Don’t    Jun,” Miyake said. “I’ll see her home. She’ll be fine.”

        “Okay, t the beach.

        “,” Junko said, ss carried aoo much.”

        “I kno it’s no good being too sensible    spoils t s, too.”

        “Maybe so, but    use hing.”

        “Some t ’s not easy being young.”

        t for a e ts aing time floe paths.

        t it?”

        “ kind of something?”

        “Something personal.”

        Miyake scratcubbly c of    kno’d be okay.”

        “I    w if, maybe, you had a wife somewhere.”

        Miyake pulled t of , ope, and took a long, slo on to , and looked at Junko.

        “ e from all of a sudden?”

        “It’s not all of a sudden. I kind of got tarted talking about t you oold me, about    about tg a fire.”

        “I did?”

        “And do you oo?”

        “Yup. two of ’em.”

        “In Kobe, right?”

        “t’s here.”

        “here in Kobe?”

        “tion. Up in t muchere.”

        Miyake narro turned o the fire.

        “t’s    . I’m not using my brain any more t king. I t I mean.”

        “Do you    to tell me more?”

        “No,” Miyake said. “I really don’t.”

        “Okay, I’ll stop, t I hink you’re a good person.”

        “t’s not tip of a brancell me, Jun,    about o die?”

        Junko pohen shook her head.

        “ell, I t it all time,” Miyake said.

        “o die?”

        “Locked inside a refrigerator,”    ime. Some kid is playing around inside a refrigerator t somebody’s tes. Like t.”

        to ttering sparks. Miyake c    did nely unreal shadows across his face.

        “I’m in tigotal darkness, and I die little by little. It mig be so bad if I could just plain suffocate. But it doesn’t    iny bit of air mao get in t takes a really long time. I scream, but nobody    ices I’m missing. It’s so cramped in t move. I squirm and squirm, but t open.”

        Junko said nothing.

        “I    drenc. I’ve been dreaming about dying sloc even after I    end. t part of t is absolutely dry. I go to tcor. Of course, I don’t or, so I ougo realize it’s a dream, but I still don’t notice. I’m trange going on, but I open tor is pitc’s out. I ick my    out fr, and tart dragging me inside. I let out a ime I ’s my dream. It’s altle detail. And every time I , it’s just as scary as t.”

        Miyake poked tip of a branc ba place.

        “It’s so real, I feel as if I’ve already died imes.”

        “art he dream?”

        “ay,    remember    me alone. A year . . . no, t all. I o be okay for me. But no. t as I o t started up again. And o gets going, thing I    do.”

        Miyake shook his head.

        “I’m sorry, Jun, I really s be telling you tories.”

        “Yes you s a cigarette betch, inhaling a deep lungful of smoke. “Go on.”

        ts end. tra drifto t Junko t the o sounded louder.

        “ter called Jack London,” Miyake began.

        “Sure, te about the fire.”

        “t’s ime,    o die by droely sure of it. o t nigice, and he’d drown.”

        “Did he really drown?”

        Miyake sh morphine.”

        “So ion didn’t e true. Or maybe o make sure it    e true.”

        “On t least, it looks like t,” Miyake said, pausing for a moment. “But in a sense, .    to tions    stand for sometimes. And tand for    be a lot more intey. t’s t t ion. Do you see w I mean?”

        Junko t about it for a w see w .

        “I’ve never o about o die,” s t it. I don’t even know o live.”

        Miyake gave a nod. “I kno’s guided by to die.”

        “Is t how you’re living?” she asked.

        “I’m not sure. It seems t imes.”

        Miyake sat do to Junko. tle more ed and older t and stig out.

        “ kind of pictures ing?” she asked.

        “t ougo explain.”

        “Okay, t’s t ted?”

        “I call it Landscape iron. I finis t’s just a picture of an iron in a room.”

        “ so tougo explain?”

        “Because it’s not really an iron.”

        S    an iron?”

        “t’s right.”

        “Meaning it stands for something else?”

        “Probably.”

        “Meaning you    only paint it if you use someto stand for it?”

        Miyake nodded in silence.

        Junko looked up to see t tars in tance. Miyake t piece, to to touco . Sook in a long, deep breat.

        “You knohing?” she said.

        “?”

        “I’m pletely empty.”

        “Yeah?”

        “Yeah.”

        S, tears ill ears    stop.

        “t all in er, . Empty.”

        “I know w you mean,” he said.

        “Really?”

        “Yea.”

        “    I do?”

        “Get a good nig usually fixes it.”

        “ I’ve got is not so easy to fix.”

        “You may be rig may not be t easy.”

        Just teamy ion of er trapped in a log. Miyake raised    time.

        “So, w should I do?” Junko asked.

        “I don’t k do you say?”

        “Sounds good to me.”

        “Are you serious?”

        “I’m serious.”

        ill around    silent for a    leat.

        “Any’s    till t,” Miyake said. “e built it, so    pany to t goes out, and it turns pit we    die.”

        “Good,” Junko said. “But how?”

        “I’ll thing.”

        “Okay.”

        rapped in t of a grely bony. I could never live . I could never get inside . But I migo die h him.

        S    must be t. Most of to as t piece still glole        itself out.

        “Mind if I take a little nap?” she asked.

        “Sure, go ahead.”

        “ill you wake me w?”

        “Don’t art feeling t to or not.”

        Sed t, you’ll start feeling t to or not. t o a fleeting, but deep, sleep.
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