Сияние

Up On the Roof

           Sheturnedandfledtowardtheoffice.Helookedathisdebateclassthen,lookedthemrightintheeyebecausehewasinchargeagain,fullyhimself,andwhenhewashimselftherewasn’tanicerguyinthewholestateofVermont.Surelytheyknewthat.

           "Youcangohomenow,"hetoldthemquietly."We’llmeetagaintomorrow."

           Butbytheendofthatweeksixofhisdebatershaddroppedout,twoofthemtheclassoftheact,butofcourseitdidn’tmattermuchbecausehehadbeeninformedbythenthathewouldbedroppingouthimself.

           Yetsomehowhehadstayedoffthebottle,andhesupposedthatwassomething.

           AndhehadnothatedGeorgeHatfield.Hewassureofthat.Hehadnotactedbuthadbeenactedupon.

           Youhatemebecauseyouknow…

           Buthehadknownnothing.Nothing.HewouldswearthatbeforetheThroneofAlmightyGod,justashewouldswearthathehadsetthetimeraheadnomorethanaminute.Andnotoutofhatebutoutofpity.

           Twowaspswerecrawlingsluggishlyaboutontheroofbesidetheholeintheflashing.

           HewatchedthemuntiltheyspreadtheiraerodynamicallyunsoundbutstrangelyefficientwingsandlumberedoffintotheOctobersunshine,perchancetostingsomeoneelse.Godhadseenfittogivethemstingersandlacksupposedtheyhadtousethemonsomebody

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