"Richard Paul Russo - Watching Lear Dream" - читать интересную книгу автора (Russo Richard Paul)

"That's true," he replied. "But they'll try. And they'll kill me, and they'll
kill Lear."

She stared at him, as though trying to decide something. "All right," she said,
nodding. "And then what?"

"I don't know."

She let out a quiet but harsh laugh and shook her head, but didn't say anything
more. They made a place for her to sit in the closet, a nest of his clothing.
When she was settled in, he shut the closet door, then walked out of the house
and onto the front porch. The three DivCom people were waiting for him.

"It's done," he said.

"Something's wrong." Lear spoke quietly, almost hushed. He looked and sounded
confused.

"What?" Samuel asked.

Lear just shook his head. Somehow he looked even older this evening, old
and/rail and lost.

They were eating out on the front porch, the sky mottled with bits of dark
crimson, remnants of a sunset long gone. Samuel could see the flickering lights
of the village downslope in the distance, and he thought about the walk there in
the dark he'd never made before, the one he would have to make later this night.

"A dream I had," Lear finally said.

"What dream?" Breath catching.

Lear shook his head again. There was pain now in the pale blue eyes almost
hidden beneath furrowed gray brows. "I can't remember. It's... it's..." The old
man's mouth trembled and he blinked his eyes. "Gone," he eventually said, a
strange grieving in his voice.

No, Samuel thought. But there was nothing he could say.

They remained on the porch, drinking coffee as complete darkness fell and the
stars emerged bright and cool, both of the men lost and confused each in his own
private way.

He should have been watching Lear. Lear slept again, tossing fitfully in the hot

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