Page 69 - Litteratteur Redefining World December issue
P. 69

Litterateur redefining world                      December 2020




             - Can I read something from your
             books?  -  she  asked  me  once,

             suddenly appearing in front of my
             apartment.


             At  first,  I  was  very  surprised.
             Nobody here asked me for books.
             Nevertheless, I invited her inside.
                                                             - Thank you very much! I will read

             - You have so many books!                       it quickly!


             She looked around my library and                Her first book was "Martin Eden".
             rejoiced  like  a  little  child.  I  stood     Then she began to come to me in
             silently  in  front  of  the  window,           every  three  or  four  days.  We
             pressing  a  cigarette  to  my  lips.  I        almost  did  not  communicate,  she
             did  not  want  to  answer  her.  I             was  a  little  confused,  especially
             thought  that  then  she  would  ask            when  she  saw  that  I  do  not  pay
             more questions. I was used to not               attention to her. When she noticed
             answering  anybody  when  I  was                how  indifferent  I  was  smoking  at

             smoking.                                        the  window,  she  would  carefully
                                                             return  the  book  she  had  read  to

             - Can I take Jack London's book? -              the shelf and hurriedly leave.
             she asked.
                                                             Eventually,  it  turned  into  our

             I  nodded  as  a  sign  of  consent,            routine.  But  for  the  last  time,
             inhaling  cigarette  smoke  and                 everything  was  different.  I  don't
             turning  my  back  on  her.  Nafeesa            even  know  why.  This  time,  I  did
             took  the  book  and  thanked  me               not smoke at the window. On the
             from the bottom of her heart.                   contrary,  I  sat  in  a  chair  and  did
                                                             not take my eyes off her. She was
                                                             in no hurry to leave, too, leaving a
                                                             book.  She  stood  in  front  of  the
                                                             shelf  longer  than  usual,  as  if  she
                                                             could  not  choose.  After  a  long
                                                             pause,  she  took  Marques's  "One
                                                             hundred  years  of  solitude"  and
                                                             looked at it with interest, standing
                                                             in the center of the room.















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