Death is My Comrade

Cover Death is My Comrade
Authors:
Genres: Fiction
He gave me a knowing look. By then I was getting a little tired of knowing looks in Moscow.
“Good morning, Citizen Drum. Shall I perhaps assist you to your room?”
I shook my head. “Coffee. A pot full of it, hot and dark. Up in my room, okay?”
“No coffee before second breakfast. Tea perhaps? A pot of strong tea?”
I nodded, and headed for the elevator. Near it was a wall mirror, and I saw myself in it. My jacket was torn and stained, my eyes bloodshot. I had a bruise on my right cheek, where I’d
...struck it against the curb. I also looked haggard, but only a little desperate. All in all, I looked like the dregs of a bottle of hundred-proof vodka.
I rang for the elevator, saw the cable start to move in the open shaft.
“Citizen Drum?” the night porter called. “I have for you a cable.”
He brought it to me and waited, polishing the mirror with a rag, for me to open it. The elevator arrived. I got in, shut the gate and took myself up. When the night-porter’s disappointed face was on a level with my shoes, I opened the cable.
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