Сияние

Wendy

           Ifheshouldpopupfrombehindthedark,varnishedregistrationdeskwithitspileoftriplicateformsanditslittlesilver-platedbell,likesomemurderousjack-in-the-box,punintended,agrinningjack-in-the-boxwithacleaverinonehandandnosenseatallleftbehindhiseyes.Wouldshestandfrozenwithterror,orwasthereenoughoftheprimalmotherinhertofighthimforhersonuntiloneofthemwasdead?Shedidn’tknow.Theverythoughtmadehersickmadeherfeelthatherwholelifehadbeenalongandeasydreamtolullherhelplesslyintothiswakingnightmare.Shewassoft.Whentroublecame,sheslept.Herpastwasunremarkable.Shehadneverbeentriedinfire.Nowthetrialwasuponher,notfirebutice,andshewouldnotbeallowedtosleepthroughthis.Hersonwaswaitingforherupstairs.

           Clutchingthehaftoftheknifetighter,shepeeredoverthedesk.

           Nothingthere.

           Herrelievedbreathescapedherinalong,hitchingsigh.

           Sheputthegateupandwentthrough,pausingtoglanceintotheinnerofficebeforegoinginherself.Shefumbledthroughthenextdoorforthebankofkitchenlightswitches,coldlyexpectingahandtocloseoverhersatanysecond.ThenthefluorescentswerecomingonwithminusculetickingandhummingsoundsandshecouldseeMr.Hallorann’skitchen-herkitchennow,forbetterorworse-palegreentiles,gleamingFormica,spotlessporcelain,glowingchromeedgings.Shehadpromisedhimshewouldkeephiskitchenclean,andshehad.

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Roboto Lora
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