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- Нил Гейман
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- Стр. 43/82
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He
thought
about
going
out
and
buying
a
Sunday
paper
but
decided
not
to
.
Arnold
Stockton
,
Jessica
’
s
boss
,
a
many
-
chinned
,
self
-
made
caricature
of
a
man
,
owned
all
the
Sunday
papers
that
Rupert
Murdoch
had
failed
to
buy
.
His
own
papers
talked
about
him
,
and
so
did
the
rest
.
Reading
a
Sunday
paper
would
,
Richard
suspected
,
probably
end
up
reminding
him
of
the
dinner
he
had
failed
to
attend
on
Friday
night
.
So
instead
Richard
had
a
long
hot
bath
and
a
number
of
sandwiches
,
and
several
cups
of
tea
.
He
watched
a
little
Sunday
afternoon
television
and
constructed
conversations
with
Jessica
in
his
head
.
At
the
end
of
each
mental
dialogue
they
would
fall
into
each
other
’
s
arms
,
make
wild
,
angry
,
tear
-
stained
and
passionate
love
;
and
then
everything
would
be
all
right
.
On
Monday
morning
Richard
’
s
alarm
failed
to
go
off
.
He
came
out
onto
the
street
at
a
run
at
ten
to
nine
,
briefcase
swinging
,
staring
up
and
down
the
road
like
a
madman
,
praying
for
a
taxi
.
Then
he
sighed
with
relief
,
because
a
big
black
car
was
heading
down
the
road
toward
him
,
its
yellow
"
taxi
"
sign
bright
.
He
waved
at
it
and
yelled
.
The
taxi
slid
gently
past
him
,
ignoring
him
completely
;
it
turned
a
corner
and
was
gone
.
Another
taxi
.
Another
yellow
light
that
meant
the
taxi
was
available
.
This
time
Richard
stepped
out
into
the
middle
of
the
road
to
flag
it
down
.
It
swerved
past
him
and
continued
on
its
way
.
Richard
began
to
swear
under
his
breath
.
Then
he
ran
for
the
nearest
Tube
station
.
He
pulled
out
a
pocketful
of
coins
,
stabbed
the
button
of
the
ticket
machine
for
a
single
ticket
to
Charing
Cross
,
and
thumbed
his
change
into
the
slot
.
Every
coin
he
put
in
went
straight
through
the
guts
of
the
machine
and
clattered
into
the
tray
at
the
bottom
.
No
ticket
appeared
.
He
tried
another
ticket
machine
,
with
the
same
lack
of
result
.
And
another
.
The
ticket
seller
in
the
office
was
speaking
to
someone
on
the
telephone
when
Richard
went
over
to
complain
and
to
buy
his
ticket
manually
;
and
despite
—
or
perhaps
because
of
—
Richard
’
s
cries
of
"
Hey
!
"
and
"
Excuse
me
!
"
and
his
desperate
tapping
on
the
plastic
barrier
with
a
coin
,
the
man
remained
resolutely
on
the
telephone
.
"
Fuck
it
,
"
announced
Richard
,
and
he
vaulted
the
barrier
.
No
one
stopped
him
;
no
one
seemed
to
care
.
He
ran
,
breathless
and
sweating
,
down
the
escalator
,
and
made
it
onto
the
crowded
platform
just
as
a
train
came
in
.
As
a
child
,
Richard
had
had
nightmares
in
which
he
simply
wasn
’
t
there
,
in
which
,
no
matter
how
much
noise
he
made
,
no
matter
what
he
did
,
nobody
ever
noticed
him
at
all
.
He
began
to
feel
like
that
now
,
as
people
pushed
in
front
of
him
;
he
was
buffeted
by
the
crowd
,
pushed
this
way
and
that
by
commuters
getting
off
,
by
others
getting
on
.
He
persisted
,
pushing
and
shoving
in
his
turn
,
until
he
was
almost
on
the
train
—
he
had
one
arm
inside
—
when
the
doors
began
to
hiss
closed
.
He
pulled
his
hand
back
,
but
his
coat
-
sleeve
was
trapped
.
Richard
began
to
hammer
on
the
door
,
and
to
shout
,
expecting
the
driver
at
least
to
open
the
door
enough
for
him
to
free
his
sleeve
.
But
instead
the
train
began
to
move
off
,
and
Richard
was
forced
to
run
down
the
platform
,
stumbling
,
faster
and
faster
.
He
dropped
his
briefcase
onto
the
platform
,
pulled
desperately
at
his
sleeve
with
his
free
hand
.
The
sleeve
ripped
,
and
he
fell
forward
,
scraping
his
hand
on
the
platform
,
ripping
his
trousers
at
the
knee
.
Richard
climbed
,
a
little
unsteadily
,
to
his
feet
,
then
walked
back
down
the
platform
and
retrieved
his
briefcase
.
