Если я останусь

8:17 A.M.

           Itflippedthechassis,bouncingitacrosstheroadandrippedtheengineapartasifitwerenostrongerthanaspiderweb.Ittossedwheelsandhubcapsdeepintotheforest.Itignitedbitsofthegastank,sothatnowtinyflameslapatthewetroad.

           Andtherewassomuchnoise.Asymphonyofgrinding,achorusofpopping,anariaofexploding,andfinally,thesadclappingofhardmetalcuttingintosofttrees.Thenitwentquiet,exceptforthis:Beethoven’sCelloSonatano.3,stillplaying.ThecarradiosomehowstillisattachedtoabatteryandsoBeethovenisbroadcastingintotheonce-againtranquilFebruarymorning.

           AtfirstIfigureeverythingisfine.Forone,IcanstillheartheBeethoven.Thenthere’sthefactthatIamstandinghereinaditchonthesideoftheroad.WhenIlookdown,thejeanskirt,cardigansweater,andtheblackbootsIputonthismorningalllookthesameastheydidwhenweleftthehouse.

           Iclimbuptheembankmenttogetabetterlookatthecar.Itisn’tevenacaranymore.It’sametalskeleton,withoutseats,withoutpassengers.Whichmeanstherestofmyfamilymusthavebeenthrownfromthecarlikeme.Ibrushoffmyhandsontomyskirtandwalkintotheroadtofindthem.

           IseeDadfirst.Evenfromseveralfeetaway,Icanmakeouttheprotrusionofthepipeinhisjacketpocket."Dad,"Icall,butasIwalktowardhim,thepavementgrowsslickandtherearegraychunksofwhatlookslikecauliflower.IknowwhatI’mseeingrightawaybutitsomehowdoesnotimmediatelyconnectbacktomyfather.

Настройки
Фон страницы
Размер шрифта
Межстрочный интервал
Фразовые глаголы
Показать / Скрыть меню
Шрифт
Roboto Lora
Уведомления
Страница 11 из 184