Trying to make out he’s from the South... aye, right, South Lanarkshire,” Raymond said, blowing smoke out of the corner of his mouth with a smirk.
I wasn’t sufficiently well informed to be able to agree or disagree, so I kept quiet.
Either way, I needed to know at least a few salient facts about popular music,
and, recent aberrant opinions aside, I suspected that Raymond was my best source.
“Do you know much about music, then?” I asked, as we walked toward a pub which Raymond assured me was quiet
“A proper old man’s pub,” he said, whatever that was. “Eh, aye, I guess,” he said. “Wonderful,” I said. “Now please: tell me everything.”
It was the day of the concert. Everything was ready. I looked the part. I felt the part.
I would speed up time if I could, to get to tonight more quickly.
I’d found a way to help me move forward at last. A way to replace a loss with a gain.
The musician. It was luck that he’d come along at precisely the right time.
It was fate that, after tonight, my Eleanor pieces would finally start to fit together.
How exquisite the anticipation—a pain, a churning pain inside me.
전체재생
다음페이지
문장검색