She had recently become obsessed with the dictionary. Struggle had made it her goal to learn five new words each day. however, each day she would forget about three of the previous day while the even older words faded completely from her mental grasp. He ignored the girl, figuring that she would give up sooner or later. She always did.

On the sixteenth day of this practice, she began to tire of the randomly generated words. Her fingers bore the marks of the heavy edges of dictionary pages. So she decided to make up words of her own. She put down the Haruki Murakami book she had been re-reading and looked across the table at him.

"You're are a Windup Bird."

He raised his eyebrows and glanced at the cover of the novel. "Now what exactly does that mean?"

"Well, the question is what do I want it to mean now. My own take upon it."

"Right," he replied, turning his attention back to his breakfast.

"I take it to mean a man or woman, but not a child mind you, who loves to eat honey-flavored oatmeal with a fork, despite its unsatisfying difficulty."

He paused his actions and looked her in the eye. "Are you making light of my eating situation?" The corner of his mouth twitched involuntarily.

The girl laughed delightedly. "Perfect!"

He couldn't help laughing too as he placed the fork beside him on the table. "At this rate, I might have to endure this nonsense for another two weeks."

"It's what you love about me," she grinned while tossing some hair over her shoulder. Struggle leaned in on her elbows. "And it's what I love about you, Mr. Windup Bird."

He shook his head and chuckled to himself.

"Oh, Mr. Windup Bird? Give me another month. I'll make sure this one lasts a month."