Lonely Woman by Takako Takahashi

Author:Takako Takahashi [Takahashi, Takako]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Columbia University Press
Published: 2004-04-16T17:00:00+00:00

Foxfire

Ichiko ought to have been used to the crowds that she encountered while commuting to and from her job. But these days, she no longer was. Was it her own fault that she was no longer used to something that she’d once been used to? Had she actually not been used to it in the first place? It made no difference what kind of crowd it was. Whether she was walking among the droves of businessmen in the morning or evening or the droves of various kinds of people streaming through the city during the day, she would sometimes suddenly come to a standstill. At those times, a certain dread would arise in her, like the tip of a needle. What if someone amid this dark swarm were to cry out in a shrill voice, “It’s her!” and point a finger at Ichiko? Then every person in the crowd would turn toward her in unison. Incited by the person who’d shouted, the nameless, faceless mob would begin heading toward her. The horde of people would rush straight at Ichiko and run her down.

Lately she’d begun having that fantasy. So she made a point of not standing still while in a crowd. She told herself that she should just imitate the people walking all around her and walk as if she’d lost her name and her face. She should try not to make a face that was at all conspicuous. Apparently it was unacceptable to reveal any individuality on one’s face. She should walk with bated breath, so as not to be noticed, not to be noticed by that dreadful someone who would point at her and shout, “It’s her!” She should wear the same protective coloring as everyone else in the crowd, and assume the expression of a dullard as she walked. But she wouldn’t know where her accuser was. That person wasn’t the least bit distinctive. Any one of the people in the crowd could suddenly become that person.

“Someone was looking for you, Miss Nozawa. Right here.”

Ichiko snapped out of her reverie when she heard the voice. The crowd streamed through this department store, too, just as in her imaginary city. She’d now worked here for four years, but compared to when she began working here, the inside of the department store, especially on Sundays, had turned into a mob scene. But here Ichiko was somewhat protected, because she was confined behind the accessories counter. Objects of fake beauty, in various shapes and hues, were crammed together in the glass case that separated her from the people passing by.

The voice that had called to her belonged to Yoshie, who worked at the necktie counter where Ichiko herself had worked until a week ago.

“Someone came to see you,” said Yoshie, who happened to pass by.

“Me?”

I wonder who, Ichiko thought. At that moment it seemed to her that there wasn’t a single person in the world who would come to see her. Actually, that wasn’t necessarily true, but perhaps the reason

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