Зима тревоги нашей

           "Howdoyouknow?"

           "Isee’em.I’mlookingatone.GuessI’llgetabagofcoldbeerandseeifMargieYoung-Huntwillplay.Shedon’tkeephours."

           "Idon’tthinkshe’sintown,Morph.Shetoldmywife—atleastIthinkshedid—thatshewasgoinguptoMainetilltheheatisover."

           "Goddamher.Well—herlossisthebarkeep’sgain.I’lltellhimthesadepisodesofamisspentlife.Hedon’tlisteneither.Solong,Eth.WalkwithGod!That’swhattheysayinMexico."

           ThenarwhalsticktappedonthepavementandpunctuatedmywonderingaboutwhyItoldJoeythat.Shewouldn’ttalk.Thatwouldspoilhergame.Shehadtokeepthepininherhandgrenade.Idon’tknowwhy.

           IcouldseetheChryslerstandingatthecurbbytheoldHawleyhousewhenIturnedintoElmStreetfromtheHigh,butitwasmorelikeahearsethanafreightcar,blackbutnotgleamingbyreasonofthedropletsofrainandthegreasysplashthatrisesfromthehighways.Itcarriedfrostedparkinglights.

           Itmusthavebeenverylate.NolightsshonefromthesleepinghousesonElmStreet.IwaswetandImustsomewherehavesteppedinapuddle.MyshoesmadeajuicysquidgingsoundasIwalked.

           Isawamaninachauffeur’scapthroughthemustywindshield.Istoppedbesidethemonstercarandrappedwithmyknucklesontheglassandthewindowsliddownwithanelectricwhine.Ifelttheunnaturalclimateofair-conditioningonmyface.

           "I’mEthanHawley.