Сияние

Wendy

           Wasn’tthatright?Yes,butifshecouldimaginethatthehotelwasfullofvoicesandmusic,couldn’tJackimaginethathewasdrunk?

           Shedidn’tlikethatthought.Notatall.

           Wendyreachedthelobbyandlookedaround.Thevelvetropethathadcordonedofftheballroomhadbeentakendown;thesteelpostithadbeenclippedtohadbeenknockedover,asifsomeonehadcarelesslybumpeditgoingby.Mellowwhitelightfellthroughtheopendoorontothelobbyrugfromtheballroom’shigh,narrowwindows.Heartthumping,shewenttotheopenballroomdoorsandlookedin.Itwasemptyandsilent,theonlysoundthatcurioussubauralechothatseemstolingerinalllargerooms,fromthelargestcathedraltothesmallesthometownbingoparlor.

           Shewentbacktotheregistrationdeskandstoodundecidedforamoment,listeningtothewindhowloutside.Itwastheworststormsofar,anditwasstillbuildingupforce.Somewhereonthewestsideashutterlatchhadbrokenandtheshutterbangedbackandforthwithasteadyflatcrackingsound,likeashootinggallerywithonlyonecustomer.

           (Jack,youreallyshouldtakecareofthat.Beforesomethinggetsin.)

           Whatwouldshedoifhecameatherrightnow,shewondered.

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