“Then we have until spring,” she says. “To learn what the cranes know.”
“No,” he says. “But I remembered the cranes.” “Then we have until spring,” she says
She does not cry. Instead, she places her palm against the glass. The orangutan, impossibly, places his palm on the other side. Three species of loneliness—human, ape, city—pressed against a single transparent wall. “Then we have until spring
In their third month, he brings her to the orangutan exhibit. They stand before the glass. A massive male stares back, his eyes older than Tokyo itself. She thinks of Julie. She thinks of all the relationships in this city that are one transfer order away from extinction. “Then we have until spring,” she says