people between the lines The bell rang. Leah was not especially attracted, but the address knew only people with whom it did not matter. She opened the door, which sounded similar to the old spine. Furniture in the hallway was like a parked cabinet.
"Long time no see, Mrs Lea," she said, noting furniture. The suppressed reflex to pull the hat was unmistakable, but Lea hated this gesture and he was wearing a hat. He was an incredible punk-like, more than twenty, which Iro washed pink to the side hung. He tugged slightly irritated at the eyebrow piercing around as if he were not used. His eyes were clear and tired and hardly had a second, to examine them.
"They have not changed."
"One of these rainy days?" Lea smiled. Her hair clung wet from the shower water on the back and she got a cramp in the hand of it is converted to keep the towel. She let it fall where it stood and made a simple rotation to go back to her apartment.
"rainy season, rather." He came in behind her and closed the door carefully. His rolled-up boots walked around the carpet until it a place to let down - A shaky imitation of art nouveau chair - was held.
"Where did you leave Cervantes?" Her voice echoed from an adjacent room. The apartment was so quiet that the tufts of sheets and rustling of clothes could be heard.
"I'm not sure," his voice said cautiously, and was the first time his appearance requirements. "It was hard to find enough here at all. I've lost it somewhere. "
" You lost him? "Her head appeared in a doorway, surrounded by a light gap. She had a towel wrapped around his head and his eyes spoke to including tremendous disbelief. "You lose not just a green graugepunktete bed, furniture!"
"I know, I know." His face fell into his hands. His current appearance was wearing fingerless gloves with too many rivets. "But your dimension can not be done just hard to find. There are too few people. Hardly anything is not even canon is here. "
it" a dimension, Lea said sheepishly, as she stepped from the bath. Her hair was a knotted curly mane and clothing including every library would have chased a well shudders through the spine. But this makes it probably worse. "
He nodded and she lost him in passing tore his hair with his fingers. ". You name these days prefer traveling librarian villain"; "professionals." Up into the living room you need a break, books hunter "
" I cook you coffee, whom the whole World Arrrithmetiker up call. "
" reality forbid. " He heaved up like a heavy suitcase without wheels and pull-fashioned bars and trotted into the living room.
furniture took off his gloves and the embroidered leather jacket and drew in two pots of coffee on the sun like a lizard. On the ankle of the left hand was tattooed HYPO - on the right PAR A. My two styles, he had declared at their first meeting Lea and her half an hour later broke a forearm bone. She wanted to publish despite his vehement request of her edition of HG Wells' The Time Machine . At that time he had not been independent. Later he returned, to apologize for the mission he had carried with her. Ask for forgiveness, it happened sooner. Someone such as furniture can not be easily excused.
"So?" She had her glasses found in the kitchen again and sat next to him like a human question mark. His gaze wandered from the cup back through the room and. There was not much to see and only chair, sofa and half-empty bookshelves. "Are you on the run or in the hunt."
"Both a little," he said, looking at her. "A little too much perhaps. It has become empty since last time "
" It is too much in here. "She tapped her to the temple, just above the temples. "The books that I have been lost were key elements of my life and the stories about disappearing more and more. I try to keep in mind you, but this is difficult. "
He smiled and nodded, understanding what looked drunk mainly with the face.
"The idea that memory the book is good, unfortunately, is also an invention of the books. But I think I can help you. "He reached for his jacket and pulled out a bundle of books.
"You have that again?" It was a school edition of Kafka's The transformation , a battered children's book with colorful pony on the cover, and a patched with tape games consultant Terranigma . "Oh. I never liked much. "
Lea began to read it yet un ignoring furniture. He cooked himself tea and tried by the meager contents of her refrigerator. Once she looked up from reading, as he wanted to light a cigarette and pointed him out to the balcony. From the single window he could see the bright lights of a big city far in depth. The harsh wind rocked the television antennas almost to the breaking. He decided against the balcony and threw his crumpled pack of cigarettes in the trash.
He did jobs for them, since he was a freelancer and brought back their lost books. He saw it as a vocation, not against her, but for themselves Their concern was itself only part of his task. Lea took what sounded like an independent freelancer. But on the other hand, hung in her office and training and study certificates in addition to certificates and awards.
furniture in the middle of the body, between PARA and HYPO , was TAX. She had seen with my own eyes out. Those were the only registered records in his life, of which she had ever seen or heard.
When she shuts the last book, he sat in his chair with his eyes closed. She cleared the books on the shelf and was surprised how much more they had had in him than expected.
"furniture?"
He was a humming sound from him.
"I sleep on the couch. You'll have to settle for the chair. "
" Only "a while he muttered.
"Of course."
"The work. Calls"
"Always." She turned off the light. The bright squares of the city have left in the depths of a pale orange light.
"You know how you call outside of these days, Mrs. Lea?"
"Mh?" Your shadow moved across the room and on the couch.
"The librarian between the lines."
Lea laughed. The times changed really.
