The Lottery and Other Stories Read Online Free PDF

began to say, “Jamie, I’m here, I was so worried,” even before the door was open.
    Her own apartment was waiting for her, silent, barren, afternoon shadows lengthening from the window. For a minute she saw only the empty coffee cup, thought, He has been here waiting, before she recognized it as her own, left from the morning. She looked all over the room, into the closet, into the bathroom.
    “I never saw him,” the clerk in the drugstore said. “I know because I would of noticed the flowers. No one like that’s been in.”
    The old man at the shoeshine stand woke up again to see her standing in front of him. “Hello again,” he said, and smiled.
    “Are you sure ?” she demanded. “Did he go on up the avenue?”
    “I watched him,” the old man said, dignified against her tone. “I thought, There’s a young man’s got a girl, and I watched him right into the house.”
    “What house?” she said remotely.
    “Right there,” the old man said. He leaned forward to point. “The next block. With his flowers and his shine and going to see his girl. Right into her house.”
    “Which one?” she said.
    “About the middle of the block,” the old man said. He looked at her with suspicion, and said, “What you trying to do, anyway?”
    She almost ran, without stopping to say “Thank you.” Up on the next block she walked quickly, searching the houses from the outside to see if Jamie looked from a window, listening to hear his laughter somewhere inside.
    A woman was sitting in front of one of the houses, pushing a baby carriage monotonously back and forth the length of her arm. The baby inside slept, moving back and forth.
    The question was fluent, by now. “I’m sorry, but did you see a young man go into one of these houses about ten this morning? He was tall, wearing a blue suit, carrying a bunch of flowers.”
    A boy about twelve stopped to listen, turning intently from one to the other, occasionally glancing at the baby.
    “Listen,” the woman said tiredly, “the kid has his bath at ten. Would I see strange men walking around? I ask you.”
    “Big bunch of flowers?” the boy asked, pulling at her coat. “Big bunch of flowers? I seen him, missus.”
    She looked down and the boy grinned insolently at her. “Which house did he go in?” she asked wearily.
    “You gonna divorce him?” the boy asked insistently.
    “That’s not nice to ask the lady,” the woman rocking the carriage said.
    “Listen,” the boy said, “I seen him. He went in there.” He pointed to the house next door. “I followed him,” the boy said. “He give me a quarter.” The boy dropped his voice to a growl, and said, “‘This is a big day for me, kid,’ he says. Give me a quarter.”
    She gave him a dollar bill. “Where?” she said.
    “Top floor,” the boy said. “I followed him till he give me the quarter. Way to the top.” He backed up the sidewalk, out of reach, with the dollar bill. “You gonna divorce him?” he asked again.
    “Was he carrying flowers?”
    “Yeah,” the boy said. He began to screech. “You gonna divorce him, missus? You got something on him?” He went careening down the street, howling, “She’s got something on the poor guy,” and the woman rocking the baby laughed.
    The street door of the apartment house was unlocked; there were no bells in the outer vestibule, and no lists of names. The stairs were narrow and dirty; there were two doors on the top floor. The front one was the right one; there was a crumpled florist’s paper on the floor outside the door, and a knotted paper ribbon, like a clue, like the final clue in the paper-chase.
    She knocked, and thought she heard voices inside, and she thought, suddenly, with terror, What shall I say if Jamie is there, if he comes to the door? The voices seemed suddenly still. She knocked again and there was silence, except for something that might have been laughter far away. He could have seen me from the window, she thought, it’s the