“I’m going to work hard and do my best. And …” Lieko still isn’t looking at me, but I turn to her when I speak, anyway.

She’s crying.

I don’t care.

“I’m going to get my friend back.”

“How the hell am I going to get my friend back?”

My last cube of agedashidoufu, swishing around in the small cold pool of ponzu sauce at the bottom of my favourite bowl, does not answer. After my having poked at it for the better part of an hour, I pop it into my mouth. For three weeks I’ve racked my brain over this exact question. I’m just glad I have the privacy of this apartment when I need to wallow in my own stupidity. What the hell was I talking about? Lieko could have called my bluff that day, and at least I shut her up, but truth be told I had no idea what the hell I was talking about. With a sigh, I toss my bowl and chopsticks into the sink and go through my giant stack of boxes to be shipped, full of books, papers, even nengajou postcards … not one single piece of information about this guy. The worst part is I don’t even remember his freaking name; would I recognize it even if I found it?

I’m hungry again. My appetite has been off the charts all week. I’ve been able to curb it with big helpings of water and green tea until today, my busiest Friday in years. I had an early start at 10:00 a.m. and my lunch was cut short by another makeup lesson. Then I came home and made a quick omuhayashi, starting my meat-eating weekend early. It disappeared in about ten minutes. I thought this giant serving of tofu would satisfy me, but it was like eating tufts of cloud soaked in a delicate soup.