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- Нил Гейман
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A
truck
is
blocking
the
street
in
front
of
them
:
a
red
-
faced
cop
standing
in
front
of
it
waves
and
shouts
and
points
them
down
the
nearest
street
.
"
We
will
go
over
to
Eighth
Avenue
,
come
uptown
that
way
,
"
says
the
taxi
driver
.
They
turn
onto
the
street
,
where
the
traffic
has
stopped
completely
.
There
is
a
cacophony
of
horns
,
but
the
cars
do
not
move
.
The
driver
sways
in
his
seat
.
His
chin
begins
to
descend
to
his
chest
,
one
,
two
,
three
times
.
Then
he
begins
,
gently
,
to
snore
.
Salim
reaches
out
to
wake
the
man
,
hoping
that
he
is
doing
the
right
thing
.
As
he
shakes
his
shoulder
the
driver
moves
,
and
Salim
’
s
hand
brushes
the
man
’
s
face
,
knocking
the
man
’
s
sunglasses
from
his
face
onto
his
lap
.
The
taxi
driver
opens
his
eyes
and
reaches
for
,
and
replaces
,
the
black
plastic
sunglasses
,
but
it
is
too
late
.
Salim
has
seen
his
eyes
.
The
car
crawls
forward
in
the
rain
.
The
numbers
on
the
meter
increase
.
"
Are
you
going
to
kill
me
?
"
asks
Salim
.
The
taxi
driver
’
s
lips
are
pressed
together
.
Salim
watches
his
face
in
the
driver
’
s
mirror
.
"
No
,
"
says
the
driver
.
The
car
stops
again
.
The
rain
patters
on
the
roof
.
