Бойцовский клуб

           "Ialmostbrokethesteeringwheelwithyourhead,"hesays. 

           Justnothingelse,justthenightairandthesmellofsmoke,andthestars andthemechanicsmilinganddriving,myheadinhislap, allofasuddenIdon’tfeellikeIhavetositup. 

           Where’sthecake? 

           Themechanicsays, "Onthefloor." 

           Justthenightairandthesmellofsmokeisheavier. 

           DidIgetmywish? 

           Upaboveme,outlinedagainstthestarsinthewindow,thefacesmiles. "Thosebirthdaycandles,"hesays,"they’rethekindthatnevergoout." 

           Inthestarlight,myeyesadjustenoughtoseesmokebraidingupfromlittlefires allaroundusinthecarpet.