"Karawynn Long - Adjusting the Moon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Long Karawynn)

full, and very bright." Between one blink and the next, a moon appeared,
midway in the sky. She glanced down at the slanted rectangle of light on the
bed, then up again, frowning. "Maybe a little higher to begin with, but
setting. It was last Friday night, around seven, if that helps." The moon
scooted upwards in a slight arc. "Okay."
She stood up then and walked across to the other door, and into the
bathroom. An army of colognes and cosmetics was arrayed across the
countertop, his and hers all mixed together. Two toothbrushes lounged next to
the sink. They were still there in her real apartment, too; he had
duplicates, and hadn't bothered to take them when he left. Nor, of course,
had he been back.
Her eyes moved upward to her reflection. Brown hair, brown eyes,
nondescript nose, almost nonexistent breasts. For a moment she toyed with the
idea of changing something -- auburn hair, perhaps, or bigger tits -- but then
shook her head. It would feel strange, and anyway Jason liked her well enough
the way she was -- or he had once. Maybe some other time she'd come back and
play, just to see what it was like. She made a face at herself, and then
grinned. It had looked bad enough in the mirror; she could only imagine what
it would look like to the techs, standing around her twitching, grimacing body
in its reclining chair.
She went out the other door and stood just outside the kitchen, turning
slightly to glance over the apartment one more time. "All right," she said to
the ceiling. "Put him in."
For a long moment nothing happened, and she began to worry. Then she
heard a voice, faintly, from beyond the front door. Locks clicked back in
response to the identification. After a startled moment, Melanie relaxed.
Somehow she had been expecting him to just appear, like the moon.
Instead, Jason walked through the door just like he always had, nudging
it shut behind him with a foot. He set the two canvas grocery bags on the
dining table and grinned at her. "Hi!" he said, beginning to pull vegetables
out of one bag. "You haven't eaten yet, have you?"
Melanie just stared at him. The motion, the tone of voice, the facial
expressions -- all were flawless. Somehow the realism was more startling in a
human being than in her furniture.
He was reacting to her silence now, tilting his head and frowning
quizzically. "Are you okay, hon?" Still she didn't respond, and he left the
food and crossed over to her, arms closing around her in a protective hug.
"What's the matter?"
She returned the embrace almost by reflex. The muscles of his back
under the cotton shirt moved in familiar patterns as he stroked her hair. He
even smelled like Jason. The realization brought her perilously close to
crying. She'd told them his brand of cologne, and soap and shampoo, but there
was something beyond all that, a uniquely-Jason smell that she could not
define, and therefore hadn't thought could be recreated.
But there it was. She breathed in again, shakily. Jason pulled back
and looked at her, smiling as he saw her expression. He touched her cheek
gently with one hand, and she half-closed her eyes in response to the familiar
touch. Then he bent his head and kissed her softly on the mouth -- once, and
then again more firmly. His hands moved up to cup her face, and hers moved
restlessly across his chest.