"Walter M. Miller - The Best of Walter M. Miller" - читать интересную книгу автора (Miller Walter M)

"IтАФ" He paused and closed his mouth slowly. He stared at her with narrowed eyes, and touched one
hand to his temple as if concentrating.

For an instant, she was no longer herself. She was looking up at her own shadowy face from down in
the street, looking through the eyes of a stranger who was not a stranger. She was feeling the fatigue in
the weary ankles, and the nasal ache of a slight head cold, and the strange sadness in a curious heartтАФa
sadness too akin to her own.
She rocked dizzily. It was like being in two places at once, like wearing someone else's body for a
moment.
The feeling passed. "It didn't happen!" she told herself.
"No use denying it," he said quietly. "I tried to make it go away, too, but apparently we've got
something unique. It would be interesting to study. Do you suppose we're related? "
"Who are you?" she choked, only half-hearing his ques-tion.
You know my name," he said, "if you'll just take the trouble to think about it. Yours is LisaтАФLisa
"


O'Brien, or Lisa WaverlyтАФI'm never sure which. Sometimes it comes to me one way, sometimes the
other."
She swallowed hard. Her maiden name had been O ' Brien.
"1 don't know you," she snapped.
His name was trying to form in her mind. She refused to allow it. The young man sighed.
"I'm Kenneth Grearly, if you really don't know." He stepped back a pace and lifted his hat toward his
head. "IтАФI guess I better go. I see this disturbs you. I had hoped we could talk about it, butтАФwell, good
night, Mrs. Waverly."
He turned and started away.
Wait!" she called out against her will. He stopped again. "Yes?"
"


"WereтАФwere you watching meтАФwhile it was raining?"
He opened his mouth and stared thoughtfully down the street toward the light. "You mean watching
visually? You really are repressing this thing, aren't you? I thought you understood." He looked at her
sharply, forlornly. "They say the failure to communicate is the basis of all tragedy. Do you suppose in our
case ... ?"
What?"
"
 "Nothing." He shifted restlessly for a moment. "Good night."
"Good night," she whispered many seconds after he was gone.

Her bedroom was hot and lonely, and she tossed in growing restlessness. If only Frank were home!
But he would he gone for two more weeks. The children would be back on Monday, but that was three
whole days away. Crazy! It was just stark raving crazy!
Had the man really existedтАФwhat was his name?тАФKen-neth Grearly? Or was he only a phantasm
invented by a mind that was failingтАФher mind? Dancing naked in the rain! Calling out to shadow shapes
in the brush! Talking to a specter in the street! Schizophrenic syndrome- dream-world stuff. It could not
be otherwise, for unless she had invented Kenneth Grearly, how could she know he had sore feet, an
impacted wisdom tooth, and a head cold. Not only did she know about those things, but she felt them!
She buried her face in the dusty pillow and sobbed. Tomorrow she would have to call Dr. Mensley.
But fearing the specter ' s return, she arose a few min-utes later and locked all the doors in the house.