451 по фаренгейту
It was a pleasure to burn
One,two,three,one,two,three!Rain.Thestorm.Theunclelaughing.Thunderfallingdownstairs. Thewholeworldpouringdown.Thefiregushingupinavolcano. Allrushingondownaroundinaspoutingroarandriveringstreamtowardmorning.
"Idon’tknowanythinganymore,"hesaid,andletasleep-lozengedissolveonhistongue.
Atnineinthemorning,Mildred’sbedwasempty.
Montaggotupquickly,hisheartpumping,andrandownthehallandstoppedatthekitchendoor.
Toastpoppedoutofthesilvertoaster,wasseizedbyaspiderymetalhandthatdrencheditwithmeltedbutter.
Mildredwatchedthetoastdeliveredtoherplate.Shehadbothearspluggedwithelectronicbeesthatwerehummingthehouraway. Shelookedupsuddenly,sawhim,andnodded.
"Youallright?"heasked.
Shewasanexpertatlip-readingfromtenyearsofapprenticeshipatSeashellear-thimbles. Shenoddedagain.Shesetthetoasterclickingawayatanotherpieceofbread.
Montagsatdown.
Hiswifesaid,"Idon’tknowwhyIshouldbesohungry."
"You—?"
