A Wild Sheep Chase (The Rat, #3)

by Haruki Murakami

I checked the Sheep Man in the mirror. But there wasn’t any Sheep Man in the mirror! There was nobody in the living room at all, only an empty sofa.

“May I say my piece?” said the Rat.

“That’s right,” said the Rat finally. “I’m dead.”

“And what will you do from now on?” The Rat let go a good, jolly laugh from off in the dark. “For me there is no ‘from now on.’ I just fade away over the winter.

My life had no meaning. Of course, to borrow upon your venerable generalities, this is to say that everyone’s life has no meaning. Am I right?” “So be it,”

“Well then,” the man continued, “our wild sheep chase is drawing to a close.

the train clanked into readiness, there came the sound of a distant explosion. I lifted the window all the way open and stuck my head out. Ten seconds later there was a second explosion. The train started moving. After three minutes, in the direction of the conical peak, a column of black smoke was slowly rising.

Man blew it up?

“Oh, and as I’m a co-partner, how about a pinball machine and jukebox?” “I’ll have them here by your next visit,” said J.