Сияние

Talking to Mr. Ullman

           "Snowing,don’tyouknow."

           Jackblinkedup."Soitis."Itwassnowinghard.Sidewinder’smainstreetwasalreadyheavilypowdered,thecenterlineobscured.Dannyhadhisheadtilteduptothewhitesky,hismouthopenandhistongueouttocatchsomeofthefatflakesdriftingdown.

           "Doyouthinkthisisit?"Wendyasked.

           Jackshrugged."Idon’tknow.Iwashopingforanotherweekortwoofgrace.Westillmightgetit."

           Grace,thatwasit.

           (I’msorry,Al.Grace,yourmercy.Foryourmercy.Onemorechance.Iamheartilysorry-)

           Howmanytimes,overhowmanyyears,hadhe-agrownman-askedforthemercyofanotherchance?Hewassuddenlysosickofhimself,sorevolted,thathecouldhavegroanedaloud.

           "How’syourheadache?"sheasked,studyinghimclosely.

           Heputanarmaroundherandhuggedhertight."Better.Comeon,youtwo,let’sgohomewhilewestillcan."

           Theywalkedbacktowherethehoteltruckwasslantparkedagainstthecurb,Jackinthemiddle,hisleftarmaroundWendy’sshoulders,hisrighthandholdingDanny’shand.Hehadcalledithomeforthefirsttime,forbetterorworse.

           Ashegotbehindthetruck’swheelitoccurredtohimthatwhilehewasfascinatedbytheOverlook,hedidn’tmuchlikeit.Hewasn’tsureitwasgoodforeitherhiswifeorhissonorhimself.MaybethatwaswhyhehadcalledUllman

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