Сияние

Watson

           Itbroughttheshameandrevulsionback,thesenseofhavingnoworthatall,andthatfeelingalwaysmadehimwanttohaveadrink,andthewantingofadrinkbroughtstillblackerdespair-wouldheeverhaveanhour,notaweekorevenaday,mindyou,butjustonewakinghourwhenthecravingforadrinkwouldn’tsurprisehimlikethis?

           "Theboiler,"Watsonannounced.Hepulledaredandbluebandannafromhisbackpocket,blewhisnosewithadecisivehonk,andthrustitbackoutofsightafterashortpeekintoittoseeifhehadgottenanythinginteresting.

           Theboilerstoodonfourcementblocks,alongandcylindricalmetaltank,copper-jacketedandoftenpatched.Itsquattedbeneathaconfusionofpipesandductswhichzigzaggedupwardintothehigh,cobweb-festoonedbasementceiling.ToJack’sright,twolargeheatingpipescamethroughthewallfromthefurnaceintheadjoiningroom.

           "Pressuregaugeishere."Watsontappedit."Poundspersquareinch,psi.Iguessyou’dknowthat.Igotheruptoahundrednow,andtheroomsgetalittlechillyatnight.Fewguestscomplain,whatthefuck.They’recrazytocomeuphereinSeptemberanyway.Besides,thisisanoldbaby.Gotmorepatchesonherthanapairofwelfareoveralls."Outcamethebandanna.Ahonk.Apeek.Backitwent.

           "Igotmeafuckincold,"Watsonsaidconversationally."IgetoneeverySeptember.Ibetinkeringdownherewiththisoldwhore,thenIbeoutcuttinthegrassorrakinthatroguecourt.

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