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- Нил Гейман
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- Стр. 212/641
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Salim
puts
out
a
hand
,
pats
the
ifrit
’
s
shoulder
.
He
can
feel
solid
flesh
through
the
wool
of
the
sweater
.
The
ifrit
raises
his
hand
from
the
wheel
,
rests
it
on
Salim
’
s
hand
for
a
moment
.
Salim
thinks
of
the
desert
then
:
red
sands
blow
a
dust
-
storm
through
his
thoughts
,
and
the
scarlet
silks
of
the
tents
that
surrounded
the
lost
city
of
Ubar
flap
and
billow
through
his
mind
.
They
drive
up
Eighth
Avenue
.
"
The
old
believe
.
They
do
not
piss
into
holes
,
because
the
Prophet
told
them
that
jinn
live
in
holes
.
They
know
that
the
angels
throw
flaming
stars
at
us
when
we
try
to
listen
to
their
conversations
.
But
even
for
the
old
,
when
they
come
to
this
country
we
are
very
,
very
far
away
.
Back
there
,
I
did
not
have
to
drive
a
cab
.
"
"
I
am
sorry
,
"
says
Salim
.
"
It
is
a
bad
time
,
"
says
the
driver
.
"
A
storm
is
coming
.
It
scares
me
.
I
would
do
anything
to
get
away
.
"
The
two
of
them
say
nothing
more
on
their
way
back
to
the
hotel
.
When
Salim
gets
out
of
the
cab
he
gives
the
ifrit
a
twenty
-
dollar
bill
,
tells
him
to
keep
the
change
.
Then
,
with
a
sudden
burst
of
courage
,
he
tells
him
his
room
number
.
The
taxi
driver
says
nothing
in
reply
.
A
young
woman
clambers
into
the
back
of
the
cab
,
and
it
pulls
out
into
the
cold
and
the
rain
.
Six
o
’
clock
in
the
evening
.
Salim
has
not
yet
written
the
fax
to
his
brother
-
in
-
law
.
He
goes
out
into
the
rain
,
buys
himself
this
night
’
s
kebab
and
french
fries
.
It
has
only
been
a
week
,
but
he
feels
that
he
is
becoming
heavier
,
rounder
,
softening
in
this
country
of
New
York
.
When
he
comes
back
to
the
hotel
he
is
surprised
to
see
the
taxi
driver
standing
in
the
lobby
,
hands
deep
into
his
pockets
.
He
is
staring
at
a
display
of
black
-
and
-
white
postcards
.
When
he
sees
Salim
he
smiles
,
self
-
consciously
.
"
I
called
your
room
,
"
he
says
,
"
but
there
was
no
answer
.
So
I
thought
I
would
wait
.
"
