"Alexander Jablokov - Dead Man" - читать интересную книгу автора (Jablokov Alexander)тАЬWell, donтАЩt get your ass shot off out there,тАЭ she said to me. тАЬFirst day of the season, everything that moves looks exactly like what theyтАЩre after.тАЭ тАЬDonтАЩt worry. I found what I was looking for.тАЭ She shifted her gaze to me. тАЬOh?тАЭ Her eyes were gray. Nothing spectacular at all. тАЬAnd what was that?тАЭ I was getting too chatty. тАЬJust some leftover junk. ItтАЩs not really what you end up finding. ItтАЩs the sport.тАЭ She snorted. I had just demonstrated that I was as dumb as the rest of them. The dead man was waving his cup again. When she stooped to pour, he held the cup away, balking her of her prey. тАЬThese yours?тАЭ тАЬWhat makes you think that?тАЭ A half-dozen watercolors hung on the woodgrain-vinyl wall, between a clock that peeked out of a print of mallards taking off from a slough and a rack of state capital plates with most of the states missing. тАЬI donтАЩt know.тАЭ The dead man put on a sucked-in-cheek connoisseur expression. тАЬSomething about the style.тАЭ She shrugged resentfully. Though slender and flexible, she was older than she in a prenatal ultrasound. тАЬYeah.тАЭ It was a confession. тАЬNice work.тАЭ тАЬSure.тАЭ тАЬNo, really. Got a minute?тАЭ She gazed out through the window at the parking lot, where silent trucks waited on the gravel for their hunters to return. тАЬYouтАЩve, ah, got a theme, right? What would you call it ... industrial crap versus weeds. Right there on the edge, where one becomes the other.тАЭ тАЬIf you say so.тАЭ She started clearing the dead manтАЩs plate. тАЬIтАЩm not done.тАЭ The way she yanked her hair back showed she didnтАЩt believe him, but she put the heavy plate, with its pink rim and smears of yolk, back down. тАЬI like this one. Rusted pump housing among spring skunk cabbages. And this ... crumpled paper bag rhyming with the dried oak leaves around it. You donтАЩt call that a theme?тАЭ |
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