"Brooks, Terry - Landover 01 - Magic Kingdom for Sale - Sold" - читать интересную книгу автора (Brooks Terry)

And yet he did, because the problem was that he really
didn't belong anyway.

He thought about that for a momentЧforced himself to
think about it. It wasn't simply his choosing to be alone that
kept him that way; it was almost a condition of his existence.
The feeling that he was an outsider had always been there.
Becoming a lawyer had helped him deal with that feeling,
giving him a place in life, giving him a ground upon which
he might firmly stand. But the sense of not belonging had
persisted, however diminished its intensityЧa nagging cer-
tainty. Losing Annie had simply given it new life, empha-
sizing the transiency of any ties that bound him to whom
and what he had let himself become. He often wondered if
others felt as he did. He supposed they must; he supposed
that to some extent everyone felt something of the same dis-
placement. But not as strongly as he, he suspected. Never
that strongly.

He knew Miles understood something of itЧor at least
something of Ben's sense of it. Miles didn't feel about it as
Ben did, of course. Miles was the quintessential people per-

Terry Brooks 5

son, always at home with others, always comfortable with
his surroundings. He wanted Ben to be that way; he wanted
to bring him out of that self-imposed shell and back into the
mainstream of life. He viewed his friend as some sort of
challenge in that regard. That was why Miles was so per-
sistent about these damn bar meetings. That was why he kept
after Ben to forget about Annie and get on with his life.

He finished the scotch and made himself another. He was
drinking a lot lately, he knewЧmaybe more than was good
for him. He glanced down at his watch. Forty-five minutes
had gone by. Another forty-five and Miles would be there,
his chaperone for the evening. He shook his head distaste-
fully. Miles didn't understand nearly as much as he thought
he did about some things.

Carrying his drink, he walked back across the room to the
windows, stared out a moment, and turned away, closing the
drapes against the night. He moved back to the couch, de-
bating on whether to check the answer-phone, and saw the
catalogue again. He must have put it down without realizing
it. It was lying with the other mail on the coffee table in front
of the sectional sofa, its glossy cover reflecting sharply in
the lamplight.