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  'You're quitting?'

  'I can't work here any more,' she said. Masako didn't tell her that this was her last night as well. She'd come to give in her notice and collect the money and passport that Kazuo was keeping for her. If she could survive the night, she might be able to escape from Satake altogether. 'I wanted the chance to talk for a few minutes,' Yoshie said. 'That's why I came this way.'

  Couldn't they talk in the lounge after work? Wondering what Yoshie was getting at, Masako waited by the stairs while she went to park her bike. There were no stars in the sky and a thick layer of clouds seemed to hang over them, but even the clouds were invisible. Feeling oppressed, as though a heavy weight were bearing down on her, Masako looked up at the factory. Just then, the door at the top of the stairs opened.

  'Katori-san,' a voice called. It was Komada.

  'Yes?'

  'Do you know if Yoshie Azuma is coming tonight?'

  'She just went to park her bike.' Komada came running down the stairs, her roller still in her hand. Yoshie appeared just as she reached the bottom.

  'Azuma-san!' she cried. 'You need to go home right away.'

  'Why?' Yoshie said.

  'They just called to say there's been a fire at your house.'

  'There has?' Her face was white. Komada looked at her sympathetically.

  'Get going,' she told her.

  In a flat voice, Yoshie said, 'It's probably too late to do anything.'

  'I'm sure that's not true. Now hurry up!' Yoshie turned slowly back toward the bike racks. Several more women were arriving for work and Komada started up the stairs to meet them.

  'Did they say anything about her mother-in-law?' Masako called up to her.

  'No, but they said the house burned to the ground.' She looked back over her shoulder, aware that it was awful news to have to pass on, before going inside. Masako waited alone for Yoshie. It was several more minutes before she appeared with the bike, as if she'd been bracing herself for the ordeal. Masako looked at her tired face.

  'I'm sorry, but I can't go with you,' she said.

  'I know,' Yoshie said. 'I didn't think you would. That's why I came to say goodbye here.'

  'Did you have insurance?'

  'A little.'

  'Take care of yourself/ said Masako.

  'You, too. And thanks for everything.' She bowed and then headed back the way they'd come. Masako watched as her light grew dimmer and died as she turned toward the car factory. A faint, pinkish glow rose from the city in the distance, and much nearer, a pillar of sparks from the old wooden house. Yoshie had found a way out after all. Once her daughter was gone, she must have lost all hope, and with it her last reason for hesitating. Masako wondered whether she had been the one to push her over the edge. She'd told her about the danger from Satake, and that must have planted the idea in her head. She stood for a moment longer, unable to look away. When she did turn and climb the stairs, Komada seemed surprised to see her.

  'You didn't go with her?'

  'No,' said Masako. Komada ran the roller roughly across her back, as if blaming her for deserting a friend.

  It was almost time for the shift to start. Masako hurried into the lounge and looked around for Kazuo. He wasn't with the other Brazilians or in the changing area, and when she checked his time card, she discovered that it was his night off. Komada tried to stop her, but she slipped into her shoes and ran out the door.

  Everything had changed in a moment. This was the night. She set out on foot toward Kazuo's dormitory. Further down the road, Satake was waiting for her. She turned left, keeping a wary eye on the parking lot, peering at things imagined in the dark. The open fields around her were dotted with farmhouses, and beyond them was the dormitory. The only light in the building was in Kazuo's window on the second floor. She climbed the metal stairs, trying not to make any noise, and knocked at the door. There was an answer in Portuguese and the door opened. Kazuo, in a T-shirt and jeans, stood looking out at her, obviously surprised. The light from the TV was flickering in the background.

  'Masako-san,' he said.

  'Are you alone?'

  'Yes,' he said, stepping aside to let her in. The air was filled with the smell of a foreign spice she couldn't identify. There was a bunk bed next to the window, and the futon cupboard stood open. They were using it as a closet. The tatami room held a small, square low table. Kazuo had apparently been watching a soccer match, but he switched it off and turned to face her.

  'Do you want the money?'

  'I'm sorry, I didn't realise you were off tonight. Would you mind going in to get it?'

  'No, not at all,' he said, searching her face with a worried look. She took out a cigarette and glanced around for an ashtray, trying to avoid his eyes. Kazuo lit one himself and put a tin Coca Cola ashtray on the table. 'You wait here,' he said. 'I'll be right back.'

  'Thanks,' she said. Looking around her, she had a sense that this tiny apartment was the one safe place to be right now. Kazuo's room-mate must have gone to work; the bottom bunk was neatly made.

  'Can you tell me what's happened?' Kazuo said. He was lingering, wanting to talk, apparently afraid she would leave too soon.

  'I'm running away from a man,' she said, speaking slowly, as if the warmth of the room were gradually thawing her out. 'I can't tell you why he's after me, but I'm going to use the money to get away, to leave the country.' Kazuo stared at the floor and thought for a moment. He blew out a cloud of smoke and looked up at her.

  'Where will you go? It's not easy anywhere.'

  'Maybe so,' she said, 'but I don't really care, just as long as I get out of here.' He put his hand to his forehead. He seemed to know without being told that her situation was a matter of life and death.

  'What about your family?'

  'My husband wants to be alone. He's withdrawn from life that's just the way he is. And my son's grown up now.' Why was she telling him this? She hadn't told anyone. Maybe it was easier because he didn't really speak her language; maybe that made her relax. But as soon as she'd put her situation in words, tears welled up as if out of nowhere. She wiped them away with the back of her hand.

  'You're alone,' Kazuo said.

  'I am,' she admitted. 'We were happy once, a long time ago, but somewhere along the line, things fell apart. I guess it's probably my fault.'

  'Why's that?'

  'Because I want to be alone. Because I want to be free.' There were tears in his eyes now, too. They rolled down his cheeks on to the tatami.

  'When you're alone, will you be free?' he asked.

  'It seems that way to me, for now at least.' Escape. Escape from what? To what? She had no idea.

  'It's very sad,' he whispered. 'I'm sorry for you.'

  'No, don't be,' she said, shaking her head and clutching her knees. 'I wanted to get out, so this is just how it is.'

  '.. . Really?'

  'I've lost hope,' she said. 'And I don't care whether I live or die.' Kazuo looked troubled.

  'Lost hope in what?'

  'In life,' she said. He began to cry again, and Masako sat watching him for a while, moved that a young foreigner should be crying for her. His sobs showed no sign of subsiding. 'Why are you crying?' she said at last.

  'Because you told me what was in your heart. You seemed so far away until now.' Masako smiled. Kazuo brushed the tears away with his arm. She looked at the green and yellow Brazilian flag that hung in the window.

  'Where should I go?' she said. 'I've never been abroad.' He looked up, his big eyes red with tears.

  'Why don't you go to Brazil?' he said. 'It's summer there now.'

  'What's it like?' He thought for a moment, then smiled shyly.

  'I'm not sure I can explain, but it's wonderful there. Wonderful.'

  Summer. Masako closed her eyes as though trying to imagine it. The summer had changed everything. The smell of gardenias, the grass growing thick around the parking lot, the glint of dark water in the culvert. When she opened her eyes again, Kazuo was gettin