Читать книгу Were not were - - Страница 23

Rush hour on the subway. The girl knocks on the back of the person in front, as if on a locked iron door, and, leaning against it, asks in a whisper: “Come out?”

The back snarls languidly from somewhere above, like rolling thunder somewhere in the distance: “No-t-t-t-t-t-t-t,” and reluctantly makes way for it to exit the crowded car.