“Your hair is very beautiful,” I say.
“Is it?” she says.
“Has anyone ever complimented you on your hair before?”
“No,” she says, looking at me, her hands in her pockets. “When you speak of my hair, are you also speaking about something in you?”
“Am I? It was just a simple statement.”
She smiles briefly. “I am sorry. I suppose I am unused to your way of speaking.”
Haruki Murakami, Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the Word, P.64
