ing around inside a refrigerator t somebody’s tes. Like t.”

    to ttering sparks. Miyake c  did notrangely 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 manages to get in t takes a really long time. I scream, but nobody can 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 from trong, 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 back in 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 once it gets going, thing I can 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 ocean sounded louder.

    “ter called Jack London,” Miyake began.

    “Sure, te about the fire.”

    “t’s ime,  o die by droely sure