"Weiner-PurplePill" - читать интересную книгу автора (Weiner Andrew)

"And they're all dreaming?"

"Like there's no tomorrow." She shook her head slowly. "I thought it was coming
back to you. You didn't have any problem remembering before . . ."

"I'm sorry, Harper," he said. "I'm not Cogan. I don't know where he's gone, or
what I'm doing here . . ." I'm apologizing to a figure in a dream. "But that's
how it is."

"What use are you to me like this?" she asked. "You're no use to me at all."

He saw her eyes fill up with tears.

"I'm sorry," he said, again. And then he turned and ran away from her, through
the maze of sleepers.

NINE

"Hey, you crazy, man?"

He was standing in the middle of the road, inches away from the hood of a cab.
The driver of the cab was leaning out of the window and screaming at him. Behind
the cab, other cars honked their impatience.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't see you."

"You want to kill yourself, take the subway," the cabbie said. "Now get out of
my way."

He crossed to the other side of the street and stood staring up at an unfamiliar
office building. What was he doing here?

He remembered then: Dr. Graves. He had come here to see Dr. Graves, the
psychiatrist recommended by his family doctor.

He walked to the entrance of the building and stared in through the revolving
glass doors. He saw a lobby, elevators, people milling around. He saw a million
bright stars.

"You going in or what ?"

He turned to see a gray-haired woman with a deeply lined face. Or were those
tattoos?

He looked back through the door. The stars were gone. "In," he croaked. "I'm
going in." He pushed on the door and entered the building.

TEN