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- Нил Гейман
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- Стр. 204/641
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He
never
eats
at
the
hotel
(
for
while
the
hotel
bill
is
being
covered
by
Fuad
’
s
business
partners
,
he
must
pay
for
his
own
food
)
;
instead
he
buys
food
at
falafel
houses
and
at
little
food
stores
,
smuggles
it
up
to
the
hotel
beneath
his
coat
for
days
before
he
realizes
that
no
one
cares
.
And
even
then
he
feels
strange
about
carrying
the
bags
of
food
into
the
dimly
lit
elevators
(
Salim
always
has
to
bend
and
squint
to
find
the
button
to
press
to
take
him
to
his
floor
)
and
up
to
the
tiny
white
room
in
which
he
stays
.
Salim
is
upset
.
The
fax
that
was
waiting
for
him
when
he
woke
this
morning
was
curt
,
and
alternately
chiding
,
stern
,
and
disappointed
:
Salim
was
letting
them
down
—
his
sister
,
Fuad
,
Fuad
’
s
business
partners
,
the
Sultanate
of
Oman
,
the
whole
Arab
world
.
Unless
he
was
able
to
get
the
orders
,
Fuad
would
no
longer
consider
it
his
obligation
to
employ
Salim
.
They
depended
upon
him
.
His
hotel
was
too
expensive
.
What
was
Salim
doing
with
their
money
,
living
like
a
sultan
in
America
?
Salim
read
the
fax
in
his
room
(
which
has
always
been
too
hot
and
stifling
,
so
last
night
he
opened
a
window
,
and
was
now
too
cold
)
and
sat
there
for
a
time
,
his
face
frozen
into
an
expression
of
complete
misery
.
Then
Salim
walked
downtown
,
holding
his
sample
case
as
if
it
contained
diamonds
and
rubies
,
trudging
through
the
cold
for
block
after
block
until
,
on
Broadway
and
Nineteenth
Street
,
he
finds
a
squat
building
over
a
Laundromat
and
walks
up
the
stairs
to
the
fourth
floor
,
to
the
office
of
Panglobal
Imports
.
The
office
is
dingy
,
but
he
knows
that
Panglobal
handles
almost
half
of
the
ornamental
souvenirs
that
enter
the
U
.
S
.
from
the
Far
East
.
A
real
order
,
a
significant
order
,
from
Panglobal
could
redeem
Salim
’
s
journey
,
could
make
the
difference
between
failure
and
success
,
so
Salim
sits
on
an
uncomfortable
wooden
chair
in
an
outer
office
,
his
sample
case
balanced
on
his
lap
,
staring
at
the
middle
-
aged
woman
with
her
hair
dyed
too
bright
a
red
who
sits
behind
the
desk
,
blowing
her
nose
on
Kleenex
after
Kleenex
.
After
she
blows
her
nose
she
wipes
it
,
and
drops
the
Kleenex
into
the
trash
.
Salim
got
there
at
10
:
30
A
.
M
.
,
half
an
hour
before
his
appointment
.
Now
he
sits
there
,
flushed
and
shivering
,
wondering
if
he
is
running
a
fever
.
The
time
ticks
by
so
slowly
.
Salim
looks
at
his
watch
.
Then
he
clears
his
throat
.
The
woman
behind
the
desk
glares
at
him
.
"
Yes
?
"
she
says
.
It
sounds
like
Yed
.
"
It
is
eleven
thirty
-
five
,
"
says
Salim
.
The
woman
glances
at
the
clock
on
the
wall
,
and
says
,
"
Yed
,
"
again
.
"
Id
id
.
"
