Читать книгу The City Man - Howard Akler - Страница 15

The wet snow comes down and down. Drops of slushy water bounce off the entablature of the Front Street portico, drip down the colonnade onto the scattered hats and heads of the scurrying. Some don’t chance it. Mona stays dry. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other. On her left side, a squat dowager hefts a matronly bosom and sighs.

Sheeeee-eesh.

More people come through the doors of the station. Shove forward so small ripples of movement edge along the bodies, ripple wider until an egress grows ten feet to Mona’s right. She sees Chesler impatiently elbow his way free, turn up his collar and then start across the street. More people leave the portico. Mona strikes a match and blows smoke from a mouth set tight. Whispers of nicotine loosen the jaw and leave her eager for the next drag. One after the other she inhales, until the precipitation comes to a full stop and her fingernails grow patiently yellow.