Sayaka Murata

I hear the faint rattle of a new plastic bottle rolling into place as a customer takes one out of the refrigerator, and look up instantly.

From now on we shall be open twenty-four hours, seven days a week, year-round. Please come and shop here at your convenience.”

Well done, Miss Furukura,” the manager told me. “That was perfect! You kept your calm, even though it was your first time on the till. Good job, keep it up. Oh look, the next customer!”

Infecting each other like this is how we maintain ourselves as human is what I think.

From where I stood, there were two types of prejudiced people—those who had a deep-rooted urge for prejudice and those who unthinkingly repeated a barrage of slurs they’d heard somewhere.

Infecting each other like this is how we maintain ourselves as human is what I think.

I find the shape of people’s eyes particularly interesting when they’re being condescending. I see a wariness or a fear of being contradicted or sometimes a belligerent spark ready to jump on any attack. And if they’re unaware of being condescending, their glazed-over eyeballs are steeped in a fluid mix of ecstasy and a sense of superiority.

He seemed to have this odd circuitry in his mind that allowed him to see himself only as the victim and never the perpetrator I thought as I watched him.

Well, I guess anyone who devotes their life to fighting society in order to be free must be pretty sincere about suffering.”

’ve become a foreign object.