Rus Like Everyone Else Read Online Free PDF Page B

be alone anymore,” she said.
    â€œI don’t want this.” Mrs. Blue tried to pull herself up, holding on to the table. The tea streamed from the table onto her stockings.“I want my show.”
    â€œWe’ll be right back with this double episode,” the woman said in the microphone. “Every day from five to six, instead of Change of Hearts. Don’t miss it.”
    GRACE IN THE STORY

    Grace was lying on the floor in the hallway of Rick’s mansion, her eyes closed, her right cheek and temple swollen and red. Rick did not hit her as hard as he could have, but hard enough for her to lose consciousness. The house was quiet, nothing moved, nothing made a sound, the clock above the front door did not even tick. There was no dust floating around in the light of the chandelier.
    Then Grace’s eyelashes moved. She opened her eyes. Moaning softly, she raised her head and looked about her. She glanced at the carpet she was lying on, the walls of the hallway, the door to the stairs. Slowly she sat up against the wall and turned her face toward the dresser.
    THE OFFICE PARTY

    It was five past seven and the annual company party had started. The invitation said, “Ladies in dresses and men in suits, but not the other way around please!”
    The secretary had made the invitations and she had also invented the joke herself. She did not know whether people had thought it was funny because the invitations were sent in the mail, so she hadn’t been there when they read it. The secretary was wearing the sea-green dress. She was not wearing a feather boa. Her boss was making a speech, standing on one of the desks.
    â€œA great team is like a lasagne,” her boss said. “Separately, the ingredients are not very impressive, but if you put them together it can be very nice. Also, if you don’t cook the pasta, you can’t eat it at all.”
    The secretary looked out the window. They were putting up fences around Memorial Square.
    â€œI always have ketchup with my lasagne,” the secretary said to awoman standing next to her by the window. “Some people don’t like it, but I do.”
    The woman pointed at her phone. “Excuse me,” she said, “I’m shopping on the Internet.”
    â€œYes,” the secretary said to no one in particular. “I wonder who made those nice invitations.” She walked over to the drinks section and looked at the bottles.
    â€œThat’s a wine from the south of Spain,” Fokuhama said. “Allow me.”
    He poured the wine in a glass and watched her as she took a sip. “It is a decent wine,” he said, “not like a Gran Reserva Rioja from 2002 or a Barolo 2003, but it has a nice aftertaste that’s reminiscent of violas.”
    The secretary swallowed the wine. “Yes,” she said. Her grandfather used to have a violin that looked a lot like a viola, but it turned out it wasn’t one. She did not want to say that. She wanted to say something sensible. “Oh, wine,” she tried. “Wine, wine.” She smiled at Fokuhama. He did not smile. She readjusted her dress. Fokuhama coughed.
    â€œI see you are wearing a suit and not a dress,” the secretary said suddenly. She decided to wink too.
    Fokuhama looked at her strangely.
    â€œOh,” he said. “Ah! Yes, no, not wearing a dress, no.”
    The secretary said, “Ha ha,” and Fokuhama looked over his shoulder. He looks nervous, the secretary thought. She took a step toward him and lowered her voice. “Do you ever feel like you are a very interesting person on the inside, but it just doesn’t come out? That interesting things sit there inside you, waiting, but they just won’t come out?”
    Fokuhama raised his eyebrows. “Hmm,” he said. “Yes, no.”
    He hopped from one foot to the other. He was not very tall, Fokuhama. He said, “That is an interesting question you’ve