"Thomas F. Monteleone - Tales of Terror and Madness" - читать интересную книгу автора (Monteleone Thomas F)

"But she isn't alone. She has you."

Her grip tightened. "That's the nicest thing anybody's said to me in a
while-and you're right. She does have me. And I got a truck and she's
got the day off."

"Ronnie's working late, I take it?"

"Bastard's always working late." She smiled at me, then released my
hand, leaned down, and kissed my cheek. "Thanks, mister. I really
appreciate you lettin' me

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go on about this. I hope it wasn't no bother, it's just, well... you
just got one of those faces, y'know?"

One of those faces.

How many times in my life have I heard that?

I don't avoid contact with strangers. It would do no good. They always
come up to me. Always. Take any street in this city at a busy hour, fill
it with people rushing to or from work or shopping or a doctor's
appointment, add the fumes and noises of traffic, make it as hectic and
confusing as you wish-I am inevitably the one people will stop and ask
for directions, or for the time, or if I know a good restaurant. "You
got one of those faces," they'll say. I have had homeless people
politely make their way through dozens of other potential benefactors to
get to me and ask for change. I always give what I can spare, and they
always tell me they knew I'd help them out because-say it with me...

This is why I'm thought of as a friendly person. Ask anyone who thinks
they know me: "You want to know about Joel? Oh, he's a great guy,
friendly as they come, the best listener in the world, sincerely."
Truth is, human contact scares the holy hell out of me. I'm always
worried that I'll say the wrong thing or misinterpret a gesture or infer
an attraction that's not there. So I listen, even though most of the
time I want to slink off into the woodwork, especially when the stories
are troubling.

But ask anyone what they know about me; you could groom your hair in the
reflection from the glassy look. Just once I would like to have been
asked something about myself. Just once, that's all.

"I'll bet you hate having your picture taken."

I blinked, looking around. Sandy's friend was long

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