“Ken-san,” Iwase said, “you remember last year when we went to Hakata?” “Sure. The time we spent the night in the movie theater, right?” He was talking about one weekend the previous summer when he and I had taken a train to Hakata to see some films. We’d heard they were having an all-night Polish film festival. “Remember the jazz place we went to?” “Yeah.” “What was the name of it again?” “Riverside Café, wasn’t it? It was right beside a river.” “I’m thinking about getting a job there during summer vacation.” “At the Riverside? Oh, yeah?” “Yeah. The owner was a nice guy, remember? I sent him a letter.” “Is that right?” We’d set out for Hakata after lunch on a Saturday, skipping afternoon homeroom.