Вино из одуванчиков

           Hismotherandfatherandbrotherwalkedquietlyonbothsidesofhim.Douglaswalkedbackward,watchingthetennisshoesinthemidnightwindowleftbehind.

           "Itwasanicemovie,"saidMother.

           Douglasmurmured,"Itwas..."

           ItwasJuneandlongpasttimeforbuyingthespecialshoesthatwerequietasasummerrainfallingonthewalks.Juneandtheearthfullofrawpowerandeverythingeverywhereinmotion.Thegrasswasstillpouringinfromthecountry,surroundingthesidewalks,strandingthehouses.Anymomentthetownwouldcapsize,godownandleavenotastirinthecloverandweeds.AndhereDouglasstood,trappedonthedeadcementandthered-brickstreets,hardlyabletomove.

           "Dad!"Heblurteditout."Backthereinthatwindow,thoseCream-SpongeParaLitefootShoes..."

           Hisfatherdidn’teventurn."Supposeyoutellmewhyyouneedanewpairofsneakers.Canyoudothat?"

           "Well..."

           Itwasbecausetheyfeltthewayitfeelseverysummerwhenyoutakeoffyourshoesforthefirsttimeandruninthegrass.Theyfeltlikeitfeelsstickingyourfeetoutofthehotcoversinwintertimetoletthecoldwindfromtheopenwindowblowonthemsuddenlyandyouletthemstayoutalongtimeuntilyoupullthembackinunderthecoversagaintofeelthem,likepackedsnow.