Birdie and I went into separate rooms. Although Birdie had no visible wound, she should have been inspected. My blood on her face may have been mistaken for her own. A doctor and a nurse remained as I lay on a bed. The doctor frowned seeing my affected part.
"So, where is the piece?" The doctor asked me like that. It was stupid of me
to realize that at the last moment. I had left it with Birdie.
"Get it, please." The doctor's words made the nurse trot to the room for
Birdie.
I thought he was trying to divert my anxiety. What a simple soul I was. The doctor told the following story.
The defendant had thrown to the roof of the next building the penis she had cut off. It is not certain that anyone being drunk can execute it, but she was drunk. She was 39 years old. The 28-year-old victim said he would marry her. He made her prostitute herself, and exerted frequent violence on her.
"She had not gone to prison for a year and a half after having appeared in court. Why do you think that was?" The doctor said but the voice did not sound like a question. After a moment's pause he continued.
The operation to join the penis to him took 11 hours. That surgery was a success, but much long time is required before all those functions would be recovered. "The amount of penal infliction must depend upon the result of long-term treatment that is to clarify whether an erectile function is recovered or not," the court declared. She will merely wait, without being put in a prison for eighteen months until a medical report telling the result comes out. She is to be sentenced to more than eight years' penal servitude if he could not have an erection of the penis.
The nurse had not returned yet when the doctor finished. The doctor having lost his purpose went away to search the nurse at a brisk pace when I was left behind.
Did I have a short dream? I broke the paper of food to throw the content toward the air. A pigeon flew down to eat it. The bird was lost to sight immediately.
Throwing food repeatedly let me get tired of it finally. The pigeons like the picture on the pack of cigarettes called Peace were projected in my eyes. The pigeons in a row in many layers were extended in the sky.
"Hum! They look like kites," I muttered. There came a bee-like buzzing sound. The kites were spinning, driven by the wind. I felt dizzy. Lowering my eyes startled me, for I first saw a black object running on the wall. There was no way I could have insecticide, when the insect appeared suddenly. There was no newspaper that can be arms when rolled. A box of rubber bands just struck the eye. Recalling my childhood, I aimed at the insect with a rubber band I stretched out.
