ending a bonfire, alone. It 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 notice in 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 can 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 can do it.”

    “But you can do it, Mr. Miyake?”

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

    “You like bonfires, don’t you?”

    Miyake nodded. “It’s almost a sickness 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