Американские боги

           Shadowwantedtoshakehimself,theawkwardboythatheoncewas,gethimtoholdherhand,talktoher,dosomethingbeforesheslippedaway,asheknewthatshewould.Buthecouldnottouchhimself,andhecontinuedtoread;andsohismotherdiedwhilehesatinthechairnexttoher,readingafatbook.

           Afterthathehadmoreorlessstoppedreading.Youcouldnottrustfiction.Whatgoodwerebooks,iftheycouldn’tprotectyoufromsomethinglikethat?

           Shadowwalkedawayfromthehospitalroom,downthewindingcorridor,deepintothebowelsoftheearth.

           Heseeshismotherfirstandhecannotbelievehowyoungsheis,notyettwenty-fiveheguesses,beforehermedicaldischargeandthey’reintheirapartment,anotherembassyrentalsomewhereinNorthernEurope,helooksaroundforsomethingtogivehimaclue,andhe’sjustashrimpofakidnow,bigpale-grayeyesandstraightdarkhair.Theyarearguing.Shadowknowswithouthearingthewordswhatthey’rearguingabout:itwastheonlythingtheyquarreledabout,afterall.

           —Tellmeaboutmyfather.

           —He’sdead.Don’taskabouthim.

           —Butwhowashe?

           —Forgethim.Deadandgoneandyouain’tmissednothing.

           —Iwanttoseeapictureofhim.