The Messiah's Dream Machine. Jennifer Friedman
spread the entire contents of his case over himself. Two cowhide rugs – Uncle Leslie’s tribute to interior decorating – form the icing on this imposing cake, and in the middle of this tottering pile lies the huddled bulk of my “I don’t feel the cold” beloved.
“Al?”
The pile heaves, cushions drop to the floor. A cowhide slips halfway off the bed. I turn away and open the curtains. Frost lies white on the lawns outside. The Grootberg is only a hint against the sky.
“And now? What’s all this then, hey, Al? Looks like you were a bit cold in the night?” I lift the mug of coffee and drag the table closer to the bed. Allan rolls over onto his back. His hands reach up and lift the pillow off his head. He blinks in the dim light and holds his arms out to me.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.