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with her mouth, showing her teeth suspiciously, whereupon her face turned into that of an obstinate child. When she closed her mouth, shaking her head slightly to the right and left, the lower projecting lip was unexpectedly voluptuous. ‘Then slightly shifting the upper part of her body, she adopted the stance of kicking an invisible paper balloon. She crossed the room toward the door. When she began to walk, I saw that it was indeed her. There was a giddy lightness to her body. And I wondered if this most familiar sense of weightlessness was a sense of falling. The fake box man crawled down from the bed. Without even looking back, she pulled the door knob, and swinging around the door, disappeared on the other side. The box man who tried to chase her resembled an insect whose limbs had been torn off. Except for the fact that he was not wearing rubber boots, he was my mirror image, even to the canvas around his waist. The door closed, and the box man came to a halt. Evidently he did not want to pursue her too far. Shaking the box, he changed directions and came shuffling back as if his underclothes were wet. I could sec the front of the box. The hanging vinyl was exactly the same color and arrangement as my own (other than that there was not a single little hole in the box-not even a penis hole).
    Nevertheless, it was an elaborate reproduction. It was overly elaborate for ordinary purposes. What was he hatching up? Judging from the present state of affairs, no matter how determined I was to return the fifty thousand yen, it looked as if it wasn’t going to be very easy to get him to agree to it. From the instant I took the money, the right of being a real box man had shifted to the other party, and perhaps it was I who had become the fake. My shadow came and went with the tottering steps of a toy robot following the diagonal across the room. It was not very pleasant to see my image in the mirror, ignoring my will, moving around as it wished. Stupid man! Why didn’t he take the box off right away? Perhaps he was drunk. If he continued like that, he wouldn’t be able to get out of the box at all. Well, if he didn’t want to leave it, that was just fine too. If he wanted, I could just as well get out of my box instead of him. I felt that leaving the box was a possible course of action. Perhaps, if I dare engage in wishful thinking, her original objective in dreaming up this deal was to confine him to the box. Then she would be free. How would it be if I used this as an opportunity to sever all connection with my box?
    I decided for the time being to leave. There was no merit in simply hastening the conclusion. If I just made up my mind, I could remove the box at any point. After taking my time and getting my feelings in order, it might be just as well to come again tomorrow. Before leaving, I decided to have a peep into her room. I crossed over the gravel path that led to the entrance (being covered with dirt, it made no noise). Turning the box sideways, I pushed my way into the thicket of asters as tall as a man. A cleavage like the inside of a convoluted shell flickered in my eyes-perhaps it was due to some association of ideas that came from the intense fragrance of the grass. Perhaps it was the hollow under her armpits. But the back of the building faced northward, and all the windows were small and high. Her windows especially were cut off by heavy curtains and I could barely distinguish any light, but I had not hoped for anything more. Not yet ready to give up, I kept waiting for something, concealed under the eaves. The wind shook the gutter, making great drops fall down, and my box resounded like a bass drum. But there was no reaction from her room.
    Of course, it was nothing at all to get out of the box. And since there was nothing to it, I felt no compulsive need to leave it. Yet I wanted someone, if possible, to lend me a hand.
    Three and a Half Page Insert on Different Paper
    (It’s not only the paper that’s