Коллекционер

           Hestoodthereundecided.Thenhebentverycautiously,watchingmyeverymove,andputthetraydowninthedoorway.Thenwentbackintotheoutercellar.

           Iwashungry.Hewon.

           Nogood.Ican’tsleep.

           It’sseemedafunnyday.Evenforhere.

           Hetookalotmorephotosofmethismorning.Hereallyenjoysit.Helikesmetosmileatthecamera,sotwiceIpulledshockingfaces.Hewasnotamused.ThenIputmyhairupwithonehandandpretendedIwasamodel.

           Yououghttobeamodel,hesaid.Quiteserious.Hedidn’trealizeIwasguyingthewholeidea.

           Iknowwhyhelikesthephotographingbusiness.Hethinksitmakesmethinkhe’sartistic.Andofcoursehehasn’taclue.Imeanhegetsmeinfocus,andthat’sall.Noimagination.

           It’sweird.Uncanny.Butthereisasortofrelationshipbetweenus.Imakefunofhim,Iattackhimallthetime,buthesenseswhenI’m"soft."Whenhecandigbackandnotmakemeangry.Soweslipintoteasingstatesthatarealmostfriendly.It’spartlybecauseI’msolonely,it’spartlydeliberate(Iwanttomakehimrelax,bothforhisowngoodandsothatonedayhemaymakeamistake),soit’spartweakness,andpartcunning,andpartcharity.Butthere’samysteriousfourthpartIcan’tdefine.Itcan’tbefriendship,Iloathehim.

           Perhapsit’sjustknowledge.Justknowingalotabouthim.Andknowingsomeoneautomaticallymakesyoufeelclosetohim.Evenwhenyouwishhewasonanotherplanet.