Stamboul Train (2007)
“Through the open door Lukitch, the clerk, sat in a corner of the parcels office and cursed the importunate sounds. But he made no effort to rise. ‘It can’t be important at this hour,’ he explained to the parcels clerk and to Ninitch, a young man in a grey uniform, one of the frontier guards. He shuffled a pack of cards and at the same time the clock struck seven. Outside an indeterminate sun was breaking over grey half-melted snow, the wet rails glinted. Ninitch sipped his glass of rakia; the h...eavy plum wine brought tears to his eyes; he was very young.
Lukitch went on shuffling. ‘What do you think it’s all about?’ asked the parcels clerk. Lukitch shook his grimy tousled head. ‘One can’t tell of course. But I shouldn’t be surprised all the same. It will serve her right.’ The parcels clerk began to giggle. Ninitch raised his dark eyes, that could contain no expression save simplicity, and asked: ‘Who is she?’ To his imagination the telegraph began to speak in an imperious feminine way.MoreLess
Lukitch went on shuffling. ‘What do you think it’s all about?’ asked the parcels clerk. Lukitch shook his grimy tousled head. ‘One can’t tell of course. But I shouldn’t be surprised all the same. It will serve her right.’ The parcels clerk began to giggle. Ninitch raised his dark eyes, that could contain no expression save simplicity, and asked: ‘Who is she?’ To his imagination the telegraph began to speak in an imperious feminine way.MoreLess
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