Сияние

Up On the Roof

           NowallthatremainedofthosedayswastheplayonthedeskinhisandWendy’sbedroom,andwhenitwasdoneandsentofftoPhyllis’shole-in-the-wallNewYorkagency,hecouldturntootherthings.Notanovel,hewasnotreadytostumbleintotheswampofanotherthree-yearundertaking,butsurelymoreshortstories.Perhapsabookofthem.

           Movingwarily,hescrambledbackdowntheslopeoftheroofonhishandsandkneespastthelineofdemarcationwherethefreshgreenBirdshinglesgavewaytothesectionofroofhehadjustfinishedclearing.Hecametotheedgeontheleftofthewasps’nesthehaduncoveredandmovedgingerlytowardit,readytobacktrackandboltdownhisladdertothegroundifthingslookedtoohot.

           Heleanedoverthesectionofpulled-outflashingandlookedin.

           Thenestwasinthere,tuckedintothespacebetweentheoldflashingandthefinalroofundercoatingofthree-by-fives.Itwasadamnbigone.ThegrayishpaperballlookedtoJackasifitmightbenearlytwofeetthroughthecenter.Itsshapewasnotperfectbecausethespacebetweentheflashingandtheboardswastoonarrow,buthethoughtthelittlebuggershadstilldoneaprettyrespectablejob.Thesurfaceofthenestwasacrawlwiththelumbering,slowmovinginsects.Theywerethebigmeanones,notyellowjackets,whicharesmallerandcalmer,butwallwasps.

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