Suddenly the old story—the water and the gray morning and James’s remark, It would take more than that—was too familiar, too close for comfort to more recent memories. He averted his eyes and I knew we were still thinking the same thing. We climbed into bed, pushed the pillows around, and pretended to get comfortable in disconcerted silence. I lay on my back, dismayed that the five or six inches of space between us suddenly felt like a hundred miles. My petty fears from the memorial service were confirmed—death wasn’t going to stop Richard tormenting us.
Act 3, Scene 9Kitabı okudu
·
14 görüntüleme
Yorum yapabilmeniz için giriş yapmanız gerekmektedir.