No Longer Human ( PDFDrive )

108
ability to pay visits. The front door of another person's
house terrified me more than the gate of Inferno
in the Divine Comedy, and I am not exaggerating
when I say that I really felt I could detect within
the door the presence of a horrible dragon-like
monster writhing there with a dank, raw smell.
I had no friends. I had nowhere to go.
Horiki.
Here was a real case of a true word having been
said in jest: I decided to visit Horiki, exactly as I
had stated in my farewell note to Flatfish. I had never
before gone myself to Horiki's house. Usually I would
invite him to my place by telegram when I wanted
to see him. Now, however, I doubted whether I could
manage the telegraph fee. I also wondered, with the
jaundiced intelligence of a man in disgrace, whether
Horiki might not refuse to come even if I telegraphed
him. I decided on a visit, the most difficult thing in
the world for me. Giving vent to a sigh, I boarded
the streetcar. The thought that the only hope left
me in the world was Horiki filled me with a foreboding
dreadful enough to send chills up and down
my spine.
Horiki was at home. He lived in a two-storied
house at the end of a dirty alley. Horiki occupied
only one medium-sized room on the second floor;
downstairs his parents and a young workman were