Аннотация
Roger Zelazny
The Naked Matador
Running-waiting, actually - in Key West, I thought of a story I'd read in high school: Hemingway's "The Killers." The appearance of the diner did nothing to change my feelings.
All of the seats at the counter were occupied, except for one on either side of the woman near the middle. I moved to the one at her right.
"This seat taken?" I asked her.
"No," she said, so I sat down.
She wore a beige raincoat, a red and blue scarf completely covering her hair, and large, smoked glasses. It was a cloudy day.
"What's the soup?" I asked her.
"Conch."
I ordered some and a club sandwich.
She had several cups of coffee. She glanced at her watch. She turned toward me.
"Vacationing?" she asked.
"Sort of," I said.
"Staying near here?"
"Not too far."
She smiled.
"I'll give you a ride."
"All right."
We paid our checks. She was short. About five-two or -three. I c...
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