Читать книгу In A Dark Wood - Marcel Moring, Shaun Whiteside - Страница 21

Near the ticket desk, peering around the corner, Anne and Berte stand watching the rolling tangle of people in the tent.

And then, just as unexpectedly as it began, it comes to an end. A few men walk outside with torn eyebrows and bloody noses, clapping each other on the shoulder and grinning as if congratulating each other on the result. A fat guy with a spotty face and a denim jacket with Motörhead on it walks past Marcus, bumps against his shoulder and snarls: ‘Watch where you’re going, arsehole!’ Marcus watches thoughtfully after him.