The Self-Esteem Holocaust Comes Home

Начало книги

Night. Three policemen, driving. They travel in quiet. The driver blows out smoke from his cigarette, hand against his face, other hand lightly attending the steering wheel. Lights from the dash green his face. And the other two policemen — one in the passenger side, one in the backseat — they are quiet. They stop at an abandoned school building cuffed with snow.

THE DRIVER: Here it is [throws cigarette out the window] This is where The World’s Greatest Dad sleeps.

THE PASSENGER: [making circles in fogged window with fingertips] I have so many questions. I’m a confused person [breathes fog to cover circles] I’m just glad we’re here. It’s safe here. Do you guys agree?

Nobody answers. They leave the car and cross the playground. One of the policemen spins the tic-tac-toe panels as he walks by. Another policeman falls on some ice, then gets up, very slow and mechanic. The school is lit by what little light comes from the streetlight and each of the empty brick windowells is a black rectangle. The policemen pause in front of the school, staring.

Читать дальше →