He was silent for thirty seconds, maybe a minute. I uncrossed my legs …

Haruki Murakami
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He was silent for thirty seconds, maybe a minute. I uncrossed my legs under the table and wondered if this was the right moment to leave. It was as if my whole life revolved around trying to judge the right point in a conversation to say goodbye. ✨ Hunting Knife by Haruki Murakami, www.newyorker.com. November 17, 2003.
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