Coraâs murder, she had no doubts: it was unjust. Frank would never do such a thing.
Then she closed the book and looked around the room. Outside it was completely dark, and the curtains needed to be drawn. No, she thought as she rose from the chair, Iâm not jealous. Then she turned and drew the curtains closed. She headed for the window on the other side of the room.
Â
Â
Milk
Â
I had just lit a cigarette. The flame didnât really take, so I pursed my lips and puffed. As I puffed, I happened to emit a small whistle. Wanting to hide that it was by accident, I added a few notes. It was the beginning of a theme, I repeated the notes a few times, and suddenly the rest came by itself. I couldnât quite remember which piece it was. The melody grooved back and forth across my lips. There was pizzazz in it, the kind that could put you in a good mood. I let the cigarette smoke itself and whistled away.
I was standing beside the window and suddenly felt the need to take a walk. It was gray and windy outside, and I had no errands to make, but I felt such an urge to get out. I turned to Emma sitting at the dining table reading a magazine.
âI think Iâll go for a walk.
She glanced up quickly, then down again.
âItâs raining, she said.
âI know, I said.
âYouâll get wet, she said.
âYeah, I said.
Iâd stopped whistling, but the melody hung on the edge of my lips.
âWhatâs wrong, Olaf? Youâll get sick if you go out, you know that.
I turned back to the window.
âYeah, I said.
Â
I had my coat on, ready to go, when Emma stepped into the hallway.
âYouâll catch pneumonia, she said.
âGive it up, I responded with a sharpness in my voice that surprised us both.
Â
I waited a bit for the elevator. As it crawled up from the first floor, I could see the numbers light up one by one. It made a rusty clang, and the doors opened. I stepped on and pushed L, but the elevator continued upwards. At the 12 th floor it came to a stop, and a short, fat man stepped on. He smelled ripe, of body odor and beer. Iâve not grown handsomer with ageâIâll admit as muchâbut I maintain a certain level of hygiene. I could see that my disgust was reciprocated; he was just as annoyed as I was at having to share the cramped space. As the elevator lowered us down the shaft, we didnât exchange a single word. About halfway down I thought of my theme. I hummed it carefully, and after a few irritated sideways glances from my companion, I began to whistle. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other and cleared his throat, and I simply whistled louder. Six floors down the doors opened, and we got off. The little man hurried away.
Outside, rain fell lightly. The cars in the lot were gleaming, their colors clean and sharp. Large puddles of water lay on the lot; here and there were grates in the curb, and I could hear the water gurgling beneath my feet. The weather was good for a walk, the risk of meeting someone minimal; for someone my age the risk is minimal to begin with, but in this kind of weather itâs as good as zero. I followed the sidewalk along the parking lot, past the neighboring block, past the playground, and past the supermarket with the red signs.
Iâd reached the last block when the rain started coming down hard. I walked along a narrow drainage ditch; there was a bank on the other side of the ditch, and on the other side of the bank was the freeway. Through the rain, I could just hear the cars whizzing past. The path I walked on was muddy, and I moved forward in short steps and with my vision focused on the ground. The rain made my neck and back cold. When I stopped to orient myself, I discovered something strange. The water in the ditch had changed color. It had a white sheen. At first I thought it was because of the stream, but as I continued along the path, I noticed how the water became increasingly
Then she closed the book and looked around the room. Outside it was completely dark, and the curtains needed to be drawn. No, she thought as she rose from the chair, Iâm not jealous. Then she turned and drew the curtains closed. She headed for the window on the other side of the room.
Â
Â
Milk
Â
I had just lit a cigarette. The flame didnât really take, so I pursed my lips and puffed. As I puffed, I happened to emit a small whistle. Wanting to hide that it was by accident, I added a few notes. It was the beginning of a theme, I repeated the notes a few times, and suddenly the rest came by itself. I couldnât quite remember which piece it was. The melody grooved back and forth across my lips. There was pizzazz in it, the kind that could put you in a good mood. I let the cigarette smoke itself and whistled away.
I was standing beside the window and suddenly felt the need to take a walk. It was gray and windy outside, and I had no errands to make, but I felt such an urge to get out. I turned to Emma sitting at the dining table reading a magazine.
âI think Iâll go for a walk.
She glanced up quickly, then down again.
âItâs raining, she said.
âI know, I said.
âYouâll get wet, she said.
âYeah, I said.
Iâd stopped whistling, but the melody hung on the edge of my lips.
âWhatâs wrong, Olaf? Youâll get sick if you go out, you know that.
I turned back to the window.
âYeah, I said.
Â
I had my coat on, ready to go, when Emma stepped into the hallway.
âYouâll catch pneumonia, she said.
âGive it up, I responded with a sharpness in my voice that surprised us both.
Â
I waited a bit for the elevator. As it crawled up from the first floor, I could see the numbers light up one by one. It made a rusty clang, and the doors opened. I stepped on and pushed L, but the elevator continued upwards. At the 12 th floor it came to a stop, and a short, fat man stepped on. He smelled ripe, of body odor and beer. Iâve not grown handsomer with ageâIâll admit as muchâbut I maintain a certain level of hygiene. I could see that my disgust was reciprocated; he was just as annoyed as I was at having to share the cramped space. As the elevator lowered us down the shaft, we didnât exchange a single word. About halfway down I thought of my theme. I hummed it carefully, and after a few irritated sideways glances from my companion, I began to whistle. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other and cleared his throat, and I simply whistled louder. Six floors down the doors opened, and we got off. The little man hurried away.
Outside, rain fell lightly. The cars in the lot were gleaming, their colors clean and sharp. Large puddles of water lay on the lot; here and there were grates in the curb, and I could hear the water gurgling beneath my feet. The weather was good for a walk, the risk of meeting someone minimal; for someone my age the risk is minimal to begin with, but in this kind of weather itâs as good as zero. I followed the sidewalk along the parking lot, past the neighboring block, past the playground, and past the supermarket with the red signs.
Iâd reached the last block when the rain started coming down hard. I walked along a narrow drainage ditch; there was a bank on the other side of the ditch, and on the other side of the bank was the freeway. Through the rain, I could just hear the cars whizzing past. The path I walked on was muddy, and I moved forward in short steps and with my vision focused on the ground. The rain made my neck and back cold. When I stopped to orient myself, I discovered something strange. The water in the ditch had changed color. It had a white sheen. At first I thought it was because of the stream, but as I continued along the path, I noticed how the water became increasingly
Similar Books
