“I’ll never get the key. I fall back against the seat, cover my face with my hands. I’m crying. All I can do is cry. The tears keep pouring out. Locked inside this little box, I can’t go anywhere. It’s the middle of the night. The men keep rocking the car back and forth. They’re going to turn it over.”

Sleep, Haruki Murakami

Click on passage for full story.
One of my favorite short stories by him.
I’ve been trying to dig out all his short stories online. I wished they were never ending.

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