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- Нил Гейман
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- Американские боги
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- Стр. 270/641
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He
kept
the
Wendt
idling
until
Shadow
was
safely
up
the
wooden
steps
on
the
side
of
the
house
,
and
had
opened
the
apartment
door
with
his
key
.
The
door
to
the
apartment
swung
open
.
Shadow
made
a
thumbs
-
up
sign
and
the
old
man
in
the
Wendt
—
Tessie
,
thought
Shadow
,
and
the
thought
of
a
car
with
a
name
made
him
smile
one
more
time
—
Hinzelmann
and
Tessie
swung
around
and
made
their
way
back
across
the
bridge
.
Shadow
shut
the
front
door
.
The
room
was
freezing
.
It
smelled
of
people
who
had
gone
away
to
live
other
lives
,
and
of
all
they
had
eaten
and
dreamed
.
He
found
the
thermostat
and
cranked
it
up
to
70
degrees
.
He
went
into
the
tiny
kitchen
,
checked
the
drawers
,
opened
the
avocado
-
colored
refrigerator
,
but
it
was
empty
.
No
surprise
there
.
At
least
the
fridge
smelled
clean
inside
,
not
musty
.
There
was
a
small
bedroom
with
a
bare
mattress
in
it
,
beside
the
kitchen
,
next
to
an
even
tinier
bathroom
that
was
mostly
shower
stall
.
An
aged
cigarette
butt
floated
in
the
toilet
bowl
,
staining
the
water
brown
.
Shadow
flushed
it
away
.
He
found
sheets
and
blankets
in
a
closet
,
and
made
the
bed
.
Then
he
took
off
his
shoes
,
his
jacket
and
his
watch
,
and
he
climbed
into
the
bed
fully
dressed
,
wondering
how
long
it
would
take
him
to
get
warm
.
The
lights
were
off
,
and
there
was
silence
,
mostly
,
nothing
but
the
hum
of
the
refrigerator
,
and
somewhere
in
the
building
,
a
radio
playing
.
He
lay
there
in
the
darkness
,
wondering
if
he
had
slept
himself
out
on
the
Greyhound
,
if
the
hunger
and
the
cold
and
the
new
bed
and
the
craziness
of
the
last
few
weeks
would
combine
to
keep
him
awake
that
night
.
In
the
stillness
he
heard
something
snap
like
a
shot
.
A
branch
,
he
thought
,
or
the
ice
.
It
was
freezing
out
there
.
He
wondered
how
long
he
would
have
to
wait
until
Wednesday
came
for
him
.
A
day
?
A
week
?
However
long
he
had
,
he
knew
he
had
to
focus
on
something
in
the
meantime
.
He
would
start
to
work
out
again
,
he
decided
,
and
practice
his
coin
sleights
and
palms
until
he
was
smooth
as
anything
(
Practice
all
your
tricks
,
somebody
whispered
inside
his
head
,
in
a
voice
that
was
not
his
own
,
all
of
them
but
one
,
not
the
trick
that
poor
dead
Mad
Sweeney
showed
you
,
dead
of
exposure
and
the
cold
and
of
being
forgotten
and
surplus
to
requirements
,
not
that
trick
.
Oh
not
that
one
)
.
But
this
was
a
good
town
.
He
could
feel
it
.
He
thought
of
his
dream
,
if
it
had
been
a
dream
,
that
first
night
in
Cairo
.
He
thought
of
Zorya
…
what
the
hell
was
her
name
?
The
midnight
sister
.
And
then
he
thought
of
Laura
…
