HarukiMurakami:Onseeingthe100% perfectgirlonebeautifulAprilmorning

OnebeautifulAprilmorning,onanarrowsidestreetinTokyo'sfashionableHarujuku neighborhood,Iwalkedpastthe100%perfectgirl. Tellyouthetruth,she'snotthatgoodlooking.Shedoesn'tstandoutinanyway.Herclothesare nothingspecial.Thebackofherhairisstillbentoutofshapefromsleep.Sheisn'tyoung,either mustbenearthirty,notevenclosetoa"girl,"properlyspeaking.Butstill,Iknowfromfiftyyards away:She'sthe100%perfectgirlforme.ThemomentIseeher,there'sarumblinginmychest,and mymouthisasdryasadesert. Maybeyouhaveyourownparticularfavoritetypeofgirl onewithslimankles,say,orbigeyes,or gracefulfingers,oryou'redrawnfornogoodreasontogirlswhotaketheirtimewitheverymeal.I havemyownpreferences,ofcourse.SometimesinarestaurantI'llcatchmyselfstaringatthegirlat thenexttabletominebecauseIliketheshapeofhernose. Butnoonecaninsistthathis100%perfectgirlcorrespondtosomepreconceivedtype.MuchasI likenoses,Ican'trecalltheshapeofhersorevenifshehadone.AllIcanrememberforsureis thatshewasnogreatbeauty.It'sweird. "YesterdayonthestreetIpassedthe100%girl,"Itellsomeone. "Yeah?"hesays."Goodlooking?" "Notreally." "Yourfavoritetype,then?" "Idon'tknow.Ican'tseemtorememberanythingabouther theshapeofhereyesorthesizeofher breasts." "Strange." "Yeah.Strange." "Soanyhow,"hesays,alreadybored,"whatdidyoudo?Talktoher?

Followher?" "Nah.Justpassedheronthestreet." She'swalkingeasttowest,andIwesttoeast.It'sareallyniceAprilmorning. WishIcouldtalktoher.Halfanhourwouldbeplenty:justaskheraboutherself,tellherabout myself,andwhatI'dreallyliketodo explaintoherthecomplexitiesoffatethathaveledtoour passingeachotheronasidestreetinHarajukuonabeautifulAprilmorningin1981.Thiswas somethingsuretobecrammedfullofwarmsecrets,likeanantiqueclockbuildwhenpeacefilled theworld.

Aftertalking,we'dhavelunchsomewhere,maybeseeaWoodyAllenmovie,stopbyahotelbarfor cocktails.Withanykindofluck,wemightendupinbed. Potentialityknocksonthedoorofmyheart. Nowthedistancebetweenushasnarrowedtofifteenyards. HowcanIapproachher?WhatshouldIsay? "Goodmorning,miss.Doyouthinkyoucouldsparehalfanhourforalittleconversation?" Ridiculous.I'dsoundlikeaninsurancesalesman. "Pardonme,butwouldyouhappentoknowifthereisanallnightcleanersintheneighborhood?" No,thisisjustasridiculous.I'mnotcarryinganylaundry,foronething.Who'sgoingtobuyaline likethat? Maybethesimpletruthwoulddo."Goodmorning.Youarethe100%perfectgirlforme." No,shewouldn'tbelieveit.Orevenifshedid,shemightnotwanttotalktome.Sorry,shecould say,Imightbethe100%perfectgirlforyou,butyou'renotthe100%boyforme.Itcouldhappen. AndifIfoundmyselfinthatsituation,I'dprobablygotopieces.I'dneverrecoverfromtheshock. I'mthirtytwo,andthat'swhatgrowingolderisallabout. Wepassinfrontofaflowershop.Asmall,warmairmasstouchesmy skin.Theasphaltisdamp, andIcatchthescentofroses.Ican'tbringmyselftospeaktoher.Shewearsawhitesweater,andin herrighthandsheholdsacrispwhiteenvelopelackingonlyastamp.So:She'swrittensomebodya letter,maybespentthewholenightwriting,tojudgefromthesleepylookinhereyes.Theenvelope couldcontaineverysecretshe'severhad. Itakeafewmorestridesandturn:She'slostinthecrowd. Now,ofcourse,IknowexactlywhatIshouldhavesaidtoher.Itwouldhavebeenalongspeech, though,fartoolongformetohavedelivereditproperly.TheideasIcomeupwithareneververy practical. Oh,well.Itwouldhavestarted"Onceuponatime"andended"Asadstory,don'tyouthink?" Onceuponatime,therelivedaboyandagirl.Theboywaseighteenandthegirlsixteen.Hewas notunusuallyhandsome,andshewasnotespeciallybeautiful.Theywerejustanordinarylonely boyandanordinarylonelygirl,likealltheothers.Buttheybelievedwiththeirwholeheartsthat somewhereintheworldtherelivedthe100%perfectboyandthe100%perfectgirlforthem.Yes, theybelievedinamiracle.Andthatmiracleactuallyhappened. Onedaythetwocameuponeachotheronthecornerofastreet. "Thisisamazing,"hesaid."I'vebeenlookingforyouallmylife.Youmaynotbelievethis,but you'rethe100%perfectgirlforme." "Andyou,"shesaidtohim,"arethe100%perfectboyforme,exactlyasI'dpicturedyouinevery detail.It'slikeadream."

Theysatonaparkbench,heldhands,andtoldeachothertheirstorieshourafterhour.Theywere notlonelyanymore.Theyhadfoundandbeenfoundbytheir100%perfectother.Whatawonderful thingitistofindandbefoundbyyour100%perfectother.It'samiracle,acosmicmiracle. Astheysatandtalked,however,atiny,tinysliverofdoubttookrootintheirhearts:Wasitreally allrightforone'sdreamstocometruesoeasily? Andso,whentherecameamomentarylullintheirconversation,theboysaidtothegirl,"Let'stest ourselvesjustonce.Ifwereallyareeachother's100%perfectlovers,thensometime,somewhere, wewillmeetagainwithoutfail.Andwhenthathappens,andweknowthatwearethe100%perfect ones,we'llmarry thenandthere.Whatdoyouthink?" "Yes,"shesaid,"thatisexactlywhatweshoulddo." Andsotheyparted,shetotheeast,andhetothewest. Thetesttheyhadagreedupon,however,wasutterlyunnecessary.Theyshouldneverhave undertakenit,becausetheyreallyandtrulywereeachother's100%perfectlovers,anditwasa miraclethattheyhadevermet.Butitwasimpossibleforthemtoknowthis,youngastheywere. Thecold,indifferentwavesoffateproceededtotossthemunmercifully. Onewinter,boththeboyandthegirlcamedownwiththeseason'sterribleinfluenza,andafter driftingforweeksbetweenlifeanddeaththeylostallmemoryoftheirearlieryears.Whenthey awoke,theirheadswereasemptyastheyoungD.H.Lawrence'spiggy bank. Theyweretwobright,determinedyoungpeople,however,andthroughtheirunremittingefforts theywereabletoacquireonceagaintheknowledgeandfeelingthatqualifiedthemtoreturnasfull fledgedmembersofsociety.Heavenbepraised,theybecametrulyupstandingcitizenswhoknew howtotransferfromonesubwaylinetoanother,whowerefullycapableofsendingaspecial deliveryletteratthepostoffice.Indeed,theyevenexperiencedloveagain,sometimesasmuchas 75%oreven85%love. Timepassedwithshockingswiftness,andsoontheboywasthirtytwo,thegirlthirty. OnebeautifulAprilmorning,insearchofacupofcoffeetostarttheday,theboywaswalkingfrom westtoeast,whilethegirl,intendingtosendaspecialdeliveryletter,waswalkingfromeastto west,butalongthesamenarrowstreetintheHarajukuneighborhoodofTokyo.Theypassedeach otherintheverycenterofthestreet.Thefaintestgleamoftheirlostmemoriesglimmeredforthe briefestmomentintheirhearts.Eachfeltarumblingintheirchest.Andtheyknew: Sheisthe100%perfectgirlforme. Heisthe100%perfectboyforme. Buttheglowoftheirmemorieswasfartooweak,andtheirthoughtsnolongerhadtheclarityof fourteenyearsearlier.Withoutaword,they passedeachother,disappearingintothecrowd. Forever. Asadstory,don'tyouthink? Yes,that'sit,thatiswhatIshouldhavesaidtoher.