I didn't know how to reply. So I just said, “Oh.”

The instant I spoke I felt something warm pierce my heart.

“Wow, you were right. It's raining!” Mari said

She was looking up out of the window.

The sky was dark. You could feel the rush of the rain, of those large drops of water streaming down, gradually closing over the town. The heavy sky, thickly layered with lead-gray clouds, stretched off into the distance. Would their plane have left the airport by now? Or would they be sitting at the gate, pleasantly chatting of this and that? That family—four people I'd never see again. In the midst of the airport's incessant bustle, the floor around them gleaming beneath the lights, a scene just like the one I entered when I went to see my brother off to America, and when I went to welcome him back. I called the scene up in my mind, as if to make sure that I still remembered.

“Mari, I'm sure this is going to turn to snow tonight. I'll ask my mother to call your house, okay? That way you can stay over tonight.”

“Sounds good to me,” Mari said.

She went on looking at the rain, her back to me.

I slipped quietly from the room and closed the door.

Since all that money had actually come back, and since this is the kind of thing that almost never happens, I got out my umbrella and set out to spend.

On rainy afternoons, department stores always seem strangely bright and warm, and you can smell the moisture. I headed for the book section and bought nearly a ton of books, and then went and got a few CDs. There were no lines at any of the counters, and it was very quiet, everything neatly arranged. There were just a few shoppers scattered here and there, and the unoccupied clerks all looked extremely elegant.

Even after I'd bought all this I still had some money left over, so after I'd had a cup of tea I went to buy myself a shirt. I found one that I liked a lot, so I was feeling terrifically light-hearted as I started toward the elevator, heading for home . . . then suddenly I found myself passing the sleepwear corner.

Suddenly I remembered. That's right! Mari's sleeping over tonight!

I decided to buy her the dark blue, quilted, super-warm-looking pajamas at the very front of the display. They looked so warm and well made that I didn't think there would be any problem even if the wearer suddenly decided to put on a coat and go outside sometime in the middle of the night.

“Is this a present?” asked the clerk.

“Yes, it is,” I answered.

The clerk gave the packaged pajamas a red ribbon.

That's it . . . Mari always sleeps in pajamas so thin it makes you shiver just to look at her, and I have that image of her, that's why I wanted to give her these pajamas . . .