nothing of the woman’s full breast, which spread enormously before her
eyes. The woman, too, was completely unembarrassed.
“Would you mind if I change her diaper here, too?” the woman asked.
“There aren’t many houses with people as nice as you.”
Yuko watched what the woman did, and when everything was finished
she picked the baby up. Her fingers and hands felt love when she touched
the baby’s skin, and for a while she was unable to let the baby go.
“You don’t have any little ones here, do you?” said the woman.
“No, we don’t.”
“Are you an only child?”
“I have an older brother.”
“You’ve really got a nice life here, don’t you? Even someone like me—
even I feel good here.”
Yuko considered asking about the baby’s father, but decided it would be
a bad idea.
The woman crossed the stepping stones to the hedge and walked about
looking at it. She seemed to be smelling the sasanqua.
“There sure' are a lot of flowers, aren’t there? They’re beautiful.”
Yuko wondered what the woman was feeling, what she was thinking as
she looked at the sasanqua. Looking at the short, plump woman’s back
made her feel lonely.
Still holding the baby in her arms, Yuko went into the sitting room and
brought back a purse. It was one she and her mother shared—the one they
called the “kitchen purse.”
“What kind of wool do you have?”
