Читать книгу Saffron Jack - Rishi Dastidar - Страница 7

In a small room, a border of masking tape. A demarcation down the middle.

The litter of the temporary sleeping space: a mattress, a desk. A TV, a lamp, a rucksack.

Stretched out, a body. Blue torso and yellow legs, bandaged in combat trousers and vest, desert boots. And a crown.

He sleeps, the head resting easy. Until alarm clock gunfire and an explosive sunrise scramble him awake.

Good morning tramper! Here’s a loudhailer with your wake-up warning!