Сияние

217 Revisited

           

           Hecouldseeit,illdefinedandobscurethroughtheplastic,anearlyamorphousshape.Itcouldhavebeenanything.Atrickofthelight.Theshadowoftheshowerattachment.Awomanlongdeadandreclininginherbath,abarofLowilainonestiffeninghandasshewaitedpatientlyforwhateverlovermightcome.

           Jacktoldhimselftostepforwardboldlyandraketheshowercurtainback.Toexposewhatevermightbethere.Insteadheturnedwithjerky,marionettestrides,hisheartwhammingfrightfullyinhischest,andwentbackintothebed/sittingroom.

           Thedoortothehallwasshut.

           Hestaredatitforalong,immobilesecond.Hecouldtastehisterrornow.Itwasinthebackofhisthroatlikeatasteofgone-overcherries.

           Hewalkedtothedoorwiththatsamejerkystrideandforcedhisfingerstocurlaroundtheknob.

           (Itwon’topen.)

           Butitdid.

           Heturnedoffthelightwithafumblinggesture,steppedoutintothehall,andpulledthedoorshutwithoutlookingback.Frominside,heseemedtohearanoddwetthumpingsound,faroff,dim,asifsomethinghadjustscrambledbelatedlyoutofthetub,asiftogreetacaller,asifithadrealizedthecallerwasleavingbeforethesocialamenitieshadbeencompletedandsoitwasnowrushingtothedoor,allpurpleandgrinning,toinvitethecallerbackinside.Perhapsforever.

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