Mood Indigo by Boris Vian

Chloe.
    â€˜Hrrm! …’ said Nicholas. ‘The manager isn’t there … so his daughter saw to me instead …’
    â€˜Put yourself straight,’ said Colin. ‘You’re indecent.’
    â€˜I should be grateful if Mr Colin would forgive me, sir,’said Nicholas, ‘but I thought that the two rooms were worth a little sacrifice …’
    â€˜Go and put your civilian clothes on,’ said Colin, ‘and start speaking normally. You’re beginning to drive me round the bend! …’
    Chloe stopped to play with a little mound of snow.
    The flakes, soft and cool, did not melt and stayed perfectly white.
    â€˜Look how pretty it is,’ she said to Colin.
    Underneath the snow there were primroses, cornflowers and poppies.
    â€˜Yes,’ said Colin. ‘But you shouldn’t play with it. You’ll get cold.’
    â€˜I shan’t!’ said Chloe, and her cough was like a rip through a gorgeous piece of wild silk.
    â€˜Chloe dear,’ said Colin, putting his arm round her, ‘don’t cough like that. I can’t bear it!’
    She left the snow which was slowly falling like baby feathers and began to glow again in the sun.
    â€˜I don’t like that snow,’ murmured Nicholas.
    He remembered himself immediately.
    â€˜I beg Mr Colin to forgive my freedom of expression, sir.’
    Colin pulled off one of his shoes and flung it straight at Nicholas’s head. Nicholas was just bending down to scrape a minute stain off his trousers and stood up in surprise to see what had happened when he heard the window crash.
    â€˜Oh, sir! …’ said Nicholas, full of reproach. ‘That’s Mr Colin’s bedroom window!’
    â€˜Just too bad!’ said Colin. ‘Now we’ll have a bit of fresh air … And that will teach you not to talk like an automatic idiot …’
    He hopped through the hotel door, helped by Chloe.The window-pane was beginning to grow again. A thin opalescent skin was forming on the edges of the frame, shimmering and iridescent with flashes of vague mysterious colours that were constantly changing.

27
    â€˜How did you sleep?’ asked Colin.
    â€˜Not too badly. How about you?’ said Nicholas, like a normal human being this time.
    Chloe yawned and reached for the jug of black bean-syrup.
    â€˜That broken window stopped me sleeping,’ she said.
    â€˜Hasn’t it healed up yet?’ asked Nicholas.
    â€˜Not altogether,’ said Chloe. ‘The trephination is still wide enough to let a piercing draught come through. This morning there was a flurry of snow all over my chest …’
    â€˜It’s murder,’ said Nicholas. ‘I’ll give them a piece of my mind. By the way, are we off again this morning?’
    â€˜This afternoon,’ said Colin.
    â€˜I’m afraid I’ll have to put on my chauffeur’s uniform,’ said Nicholas.
    â€˜Oh! Nicholas …’ said Colin, ‘if you start that again … I’ll …’
    â€˜Yes,’ said Nicholas, ‘but there’s no need to now.’
    He swallowed his bowl of black bean-syrup and finished his bread and butter.
    â€˜I’ll go and take a look at the kitchen,’ he announced, getting up and straightening his tie with a pocket brace-and-bit.
    He left the room and the sound of his steps could be heard getting fainter and fainter as they drew nearer to what was in all probability the kitchen.
    â€˜What would you like us to do today, Chloe?’ asked Colin.
    â€˜I’d like you to kiss me, and me to kiss you,’ said Chloe.
    â€˜Sure! …’ replied Colin. ‘And then what?’
    â€˜And then …’ said Chloe, ‘… but I can’t say it out loud …’
    â€˜Fine,’ said Colin, ‘but after that?’
    â€˜After that,’ said Chloe, ‘it will be lunchtime. Hold me in your arms. I’m cold. It’s