День триффидов
Frustration
Shewasquiet,butonehadtonoticeher—itwasthetextureofheraswellastheline.Shehadplacedmypositionbymymovementandvoice.Hergold-browneyeswerelookingjustovermyleftshoulder,otherwiseI’dhavebeensureshewasstudyingme.
Shedidnotansweratonce.Itwasanuncertaintywhichdidnotseemtosuittherestofher.Iwentonwaitingforhertospeak.Alumpgotintomythroatsomehow.Yousee,shewasyoungandshewasbcautiful.Thereshouldhavebeenalllife,maybeawonderfullife,beforeher.Andisn’ttheresomethingalittlesadaboutyouthandbeautyinanycircumstances?
"You’regoingawayfromhere?"shesaid.Itwashalfquestion,halfstatement,inaquietvoice,alittleunsteadily.
"I’veneversaidthat,"Icountered.
"No,"sheadmitted,"butthat’swhattheothersaresayingandthey’reright,aren’tthey?"
Ididnotsayanythingtothat.Shewenton:
"Youcan’t.Youcan’tleavethemlikethis.Theyneedyou."
"I’mdoingnogoodhere,"Itoldher."Allthehopesarefalse."
"Butsupposetheyturnedoutnottobefalse?’
"Theycan’t—notnow.We’dhaveknownbythistime."
"Butiftheydidafterall—andyouhadsimplywalkedout?"
"DoyouthinkIhaven’tthoughtofthat?I’mnotdoinganygood,Itellyou.I’vebeenlikethedrugstheyinjecttokeepthepatientgoingalittlelonger—nocurativevalue,justputtingitoff."
Shedidnotreplyforsomeseconds.Thenshesaidunsteadily:
"Lifeisveryprecious—evenlikethis."
