"Joe Hutsko - Nico's Dream" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hutsko Joe)

and ties his shoes, the little task not
lengthy enough to bring out the
soreness in his hands from wringing
them so tightly in his sleep. He'll feel it
though, a bit later.

Not until he's outside and on his way
to work does the dream begin to bleed
back into his consciousness. He hears
hoarseness in his voice as he politely
orders a Cafe Americana at
Starbucks, and remembers his scream
hours earlier. Now there's the ache in
his hand when he accepts the cup, the
pain emanating from the grisly joint
between thumb and forefinger. The
container is unusually hot to the touch
despite the little protective cardboard
sleeve. He switches hands, only to feel
the same soreness and heat. He
recalls his hard grip on the jungle gym
rungs, hand over hand, his flesh
virtually searing, yet he never once
flinches or looks down, only ahead, to
the girl with strange brown hair, her
eyes warm... almost sad... never
letting go of his.
His throat is still scratchy when he
says good morning to his lab mates,
listens to idle retellings of weekend
barbecues, movies taken in, family
mishaps and inter-lab intrigues real or
imagined. No one ever asks much
about Taylor. It's not that they don't
care or aren't interested. It has more
to do with his way of always turning
attention away from himself. No one
gives it much thought. Not even
Taylor. It's just his way.
With morning pleasantries behind
them the lab settles into a quiet, if
temporary, state of preparation. Files
opened. Notes set out and flipped
through. Charts gone over and goals
taken into account. Fresh log sheets
torn off. Pens picked up and date filled
in here, employee's ID there, and in
the next column, subject's name.

Pausing before the last, Taylor sips