Кладбище домашних животных

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           Goldman’sreplywaslikethetollofafuneralbellagainstthewallofhisheart."Alot,butonlyoneotherthingIcouldmakeout:"Paxcowsaysit’stoolate."

           Hehungupthetelephoneandmovedbacktowardthestoveinadaze,apparentlymeaningtocontinueonwithbreakfastorputthethingsaway,hedidn’tknowwhich,andabouthalfwayacrossthekitchenawaveoffaintnesspouredoverhim,floatinggrayovercamehissight,andheswoonedtothefloor"swoon"wastherightwordbecauseitseemedtotakeforever.Hefelldownthroughcloudydepths;itseemedtohimthatheturnedoverandover,loopedtheloop,didadipsydoodleortwo,slippedanImmelmann.Thenhestruckonhisbadkneeandthechromiumboltofpainthroughhisheadbroughthimbackwithascreamofagony.Foramomenthecouldonlycrouch,thetearsstartingfromhiseyes.

           Atlasthemadeitbacktohisfeetandstoodthere,swaying.Buthisheadwasclearagain.Thatwassomething.Wasn’tit?

           Theurgetofleecameonhimagainforthelasttime,strongerthaneverheactuallyfeltthecomfortingbulgeofhiscarkeysinhispocket.HewouldgetintheCivicanddrivetoChicago.HewouldgetEllieandgoonfromthere.OfcoursebythenGoldmanwouldknowsomethingwaswrong,thatsomethingwasdreadfullyamiss,buthewouldgetheranyway...snatchher,ifhehadto.

           Thenhishandfellawayfromthebulgeofthekeys.

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