4684. What of those chance encounters that happen in transit, when one finds oneself on a street one never saw before and will never see again? Of those fleeting interactions, some are forgotten in a moment, but there are others that become printed in the memory and remain for a lifetime.
4685. This encounter between Coromo and the stewardess of the plane was such an attachment. The connection was formed while they slept together in the middle of the night, their shoulders just slightly touching.
4686. Later he would say to himself in jest, "I flew to New York, and on the way I slept with one of the stewardess on the plane in the middle of the night." This configuration of his was a joke, but there was no one but himself to relate it to.
4687. From 5 to 6 in the morning all he could see out of the window, aside from the wing, was the gray ocean down below shrouded in fog, and then quite suddenly the ocean was replaced in his view by a most enormous number of buildings, roads, tiny cars, and bridges.