Сто лет одиночества

           Sheaskedhimtocomeandseeherthatnight.Heagreed.inordertogetaway,knowingthathewasincapableofgoing.Butthatnight,inhisburningbed,heunderstoodthathehadtogoweher,evenifhewerenotcapable.Hegotdressedbyfeel,listeninginthedarktohisbrother’scalmbreathing,thedrycoughofhisfatherinthenextroom,theasthmaofthehensinthecourtyard,thebuzzofthemosquitoes,thebeatingofhisheart,andtheinordinatebustleofaworldthathehadnotnoticeduntilthen,andhewentoutintothesleepingstreet.Withallhishearthewantedthedoortobebarredandnotjustclosedasshehadpromisedhim.Butitwasopen.Hepusheditwiththetipsofhisfingersandthehingesyieldedwithamournfulandarticulatemoanthatleftafrozenechoinsideofhim.Fromthemomentheentered,sidewaysandtryingnottomakeanoise,hecaughtthesmell.Hewasstillinthehallway,wherethewoman’sthreebrothershadtheirhammocksinpositionsthathecouldnotseeandthathecouldnotdetermineinthedarknessashefelthiswayalongthehalltopushopenthebedroomdoorandgethisbearingstheresoasnottomistakethebed.Hefoundit.Hebumpedagainsttheropesofthehammocks,whichwerelowerthanhehadsuspected,andamanwhohadbeensnoringuntilthenturnedinhissleepandsaidinakindofdelusion,"ItwasWednesday."Whenhepushedopenthebedroomdoor,hecouldnotpreventitfromscrapingagainsttheunevenfloor.Suddenly,intheabsolutedarkness,heunderstoodwithahopelessnostalgiathathewascompletelydisoriented.Sleepinginthenarrowroomwerethemother,anotherdaughterwithherhusbandandtwochildren,andthewoman,whomaynothavebeenthere.Hecouldhaveguidedhimselfbythesmellifthesmellhadnotbeenalloverthehouse,sodeviousandatthesametimesodefinite,asithadalwaysbeenonhisskin.