Марсианские хроники

           "Whycan’tyouacceptmeandstoptalking?"criedtheboy.Hishandscompletelyshieldedhisface."Don’tdoubt,pleasedon’tdoubtme!"Heturnedandranfromthetable.

           "Tom,comeback!"

           Buttheboyranoffalongthecanaltowardthedistanttown.

           "Where’sTomgoing?"askedAnna,returningformoredishes.Shelookedatherhusband’sface."Didyousaysomethingtobotherhim?"

           "Anna,"hesaid,takingherhand."Anna,doyourememberanythingaboutGreenLawnPark,amarket,andTomhavingpneumonia?"

           "Whatareyoutalkingabout?"Shelaughed.

           "Nevermind,"hesaidquietly.

           InthedistancethedustdrifteddownafterTomhadrunalongthecanalrim.

           Atfiveintheafternoon,withthesunset,Tomreturned.Helookeddoubtfullyathisfather."Areyougoingtoaskmeanything?"hewantedtoknow.

           "Noquestions,"saidLaFarge.

           Theboysmiledhiswhitesmile."Swell."

           "Where’veyoubeen?"

           "Nearthetown.Ialmostdidn’tcomeback.Iwasalmost"—theboysoughtforaword—"trapped."

           "Howdoyoumean,«trapped»?"

           "IpassedasmalltinhousebythecanalandIwasalmostmadesoIcouldn’tcomebackhereeveragaintoseeyou.Idon’tknowhowtoexplainittoyou,there’snoway,Ican’ttellyou,evenIdon’tknow;it’sstrange,Idon’twanttotalkaboutit."

           "Wewon’tthen.Betterwashup,boy.Suppertime."

           Theboyran.