UI. UILLEAND: HONEYSUCKLE
In the corridor, Dan’s sitting with Rosa. I wonder how she’s explaining her idea of where Rob is. And Vetch.
It’s 4:50 AM.
Her eyes are slits. Outside it’s raining. John is standing at the window, shredding ivy. On the floor are petals of honeysuckle, sweet and wet. “Look at this, Mac,” he says dully.
Three great birds, like herons, have perched up on the next-door roof. Their narrow eyes look down at me, and somehow, they’re a comfort.
Beyond, like a dark ridge, the downs rise over the town.
And I can sense Vetch, his irritating calm....
Vetch is close.
But he may be finally lost for words.
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О психологии, саморазвитии и личностном росте
Саморазвитие
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Фантастика
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