Американские боги

           Hereachedhisapartment,parked,walkedupthedrive,upthewoodenstepstohisapartment.Thegoldfinchesandnuthatchesonthebirdfeederhardlygavehimaglance.Hewentinside.Hewateredtheplant,wonderedwhetherornottoputthewineintotherefrigerator.

           Therewasalotoftimetokilluntilsix.

           Shadowwishedhecouldcomfortablywatchtelevisiononcemore.Hewantedtobeentertained,nottohavetothink,justtositandletthesoundsandthelightwashoverhim.DoyouwanttoseeLucy’stits?somethingwithaLucyvoicewhisperedinhismemory,andheshookhishead,althoughtherewasnoonetheretoseehim.

           Hewasnervous,herealized.Thiswouldbehisfirstrealsocialinteractionwithotherpeople—normalpeople,notpeopleinjail,notgodsorcultureheroesordreams—sincehewasfirstarrested,overthreeyearsago.Hewouldhavetomakeconversation,asMikeAinsel.

           Hecheckedhiswatch.Itwastwo-thirty.MargueriteOlsenhadtoldhimtobethereatsix.Didshemeansixexactly?Shouldhebetherealittleearly?Alittlelate?Hedecided,eventually,towalknextdooratfivepastsix.

           Shadow’stelephonerang.

           "Yeah?"hesaid.

           "That’snowaytoanswerthephone,"growledWednesday.

           "WhenIgetmytelephoneconnectedI’llansweritpolitely,"saidShadow."CanIhelpyou?"

           "Idon’tknow,"saidWednesday.Therewasapause.