from somewhere I couldn’t see others kept coming in. They were on the wardrobe, on the ceiling light, on the football. And now they were all looking at me. All gray, which in the darkness seemed black, all with the same stupid hostile, nasty pigeon eyes.
But none of them moved.
They were too still, I thought, and so, making an effort to overcome my disgust, I reached out my hand to one of them that was on the bedside table. I touched it with one finger but it didn’t move. I touched another and that one didn’t move either.
Then I tried touching the third one, but a bit harder, and it fell to the floor, making a noise like a paper ball or a piece of cardboard. I tried to push another one and that one also fell, without giving any signs of life. Then, even though it really made me want to puke, I tried picking one up. I took it cautiously between my index finger and my thumb, and at that moment I understood.
It wasn’t alive.
It was stuffed.
They were all stuffed, and as I was holding the one I had picked up between my fingers, I heard a rustling spreading from the room. It didn’t come from any place in particular.
The pigeons started falling, one after the other, a whole volley of them. A heavy shower of stuffed pigeons. It was really disgusting.
I shielded my head with my hands, making an effort not to scream, and stayed like that for all the time it lasted. Then, when the shower was over, I looked around, checked the floor and the bed.
There was nothing there, because I had woken up.
15
He was just getting ready to go out when his mobile phone rang. That was something that happened so rarely that at first Roberto didn’t realize the sound had anything to do with him.
“Hello.”
“Hi, it’s Emma.”
“Emma, hi.”
“I remembered you’d written your telephone number in the book.”
“Yes, it was inside the cover,” Roberto replied, and a fraction of a second later felt like an idiot. If she was phoning him, that obviously meant she’d found the number.
“The book, yes. It’s very good, thank you. Reading it brought back lots of memories.”
At that moment it struck Roberto that Emma should have been at the doctor’s office at this hour.
“Aren’t you at the doctor’s?”
“Actually, no. I couldn’t go today. And I won’t be going on Mondays anymore, because … Well, it’s not important, something to do with work. Anyway, I’ve changed days.”
“Oh, so our date is canceled?” He tried to give his voice a light tone, but the thought going through his brain was: if she had changed the day of her session, it was likely they’d never meet again.
“That’s why I’m phoning you. As if we’d had a real date. I know it may seem ridiculous, but I thought that if you didn’t see me you might get worried.”
Then she paused, and in those moments of silence it seemed to Roberto that he could hear the frantic murmur of thoughts running out of control.
“It’s true. If I hadn’t seen you today I’d have been worried. Thank you.”
Silence, heavy with unexpressed intentions. Each was aware of the other being about to speak and was waiting.
“Maybe—”
“I was thinking—”
“I’m sorry, go on.”
“No, you first.”
“If you’re not too busy tonight, maybe we could have a bite to eat or go for a drink. Tonight.” He said
tonight
twice, although he couldn’t have said why. And as he finished speaking, he was already regretting what he had said. What did he know about her, apart fromwhat he had discovered on the Internet? She might be married—she didn’t wear a wedding ring; come to think of it, she didn’t wear any ring at all: that was his old attention to detail coming out—she might be with someone, she might have had no intention of seeing him and the phone call had been simply the impulsive act of an unstable person.
“Obviously if you can’t or you don’t feel like it, no problem,” he said hastily. “I don’t mean to be intrusive, I just
But none of them moved.
They were too still, I thought, and so, making an effort to overcome my disgust, I reached out my hand to one of them that was on the bedside table. I touched it with one finger but it didn’t move. I touched another and that one didn’t move either.
Then I tried touching the third one, but a bit harder, and it fell to the floor, making a noise like a paper ball or a piece of cardboard. I tried to push another one and that one also fell, without giving any signs of life. Then, even though it really made me want to puke, I tried picking one up. I took it cautiously between my index finger and my thumb, and at that moment I understood.
It wasn’t alive.
It was stuffed.
They were all stuffed, and as I was holding the one I had picked up between my fingers, I heard a rustling spreading from the room. It didn’t come from any place in particular.
The pigeons started falling, one after the other, a whole volley of them. A heavy shower of stuffed pigeons. It was really disgusting.
I shielded my head with my hands, making an effort not to scream, and stayed like that for all the time it lasted. Then, when the shower was over, I looked around, checked the floor and the bed.
There was nothing there, because I had woken up.
15
He was just getting ready to go out when his mobile phone rang. That was something that happened so rarely that at first Roberto didn’t realize the sound had anything to do with him.
“Hello.”
“Hi, it’s Emma.”
“Emma, hi.”
“I remembered you’d written your telephone number in the book.”
“Yes, it was inside the cover,” Roberto replied, and a fraction of a second later felt like an idiot. If she was phoning him, that obviously meant she’d found the number.
“The book, yes. It’s very good, thank you. Reading it brought back lots of memories.”
At that moment it struck Roberto that Emma should have been at the doctor’s office at this hour.
“Aren’t you at the doctor’s?”
“Actually, no. I couldn’t go today. And I won’t be going on Mondays anymore, because … Well, it’s not important, something to do with work. Anyway, I’ve changed days.”
“Oh, so our date is canceled?” He tried to give his voice a light tone, but the thought going through his brain was: if she had changed the day of her session, it was likely they’d never meet again.
“That’s why I’m phoning you. As if we’d had a real date. I know it may seem ridiculous, but I thought that if you didn’t see me you might get worried.”
Then she paused, and in those moments of silence it seemed to Roberto that he could hear the frantic murmur of thoughts running out of control.
“It’s true. If I hadn’t seen you today I’d have been worried. Thank you.”
Silence, heavy with unexpressed intentions. Each was aware of the other being about to speak and was waiting.
“Maybe—”
“I was thinking—”
“I’m sorry, go on.”
“No, you first.”
“If you’re not too busy tonight, maybe we could have a bite to eat or go for a drink. Tonight.” He said
tonight
twice, although he couldn’t have said why. And as he finished speaking, he was already regretting what he had said. What did he know about her, apart fromwhat he had discovered on the Internet? She might be married—she didn’t wear a wedding ring; come to think of it, she didn’t wear any ring at all: that was his old attention to detail coming out—she might be with someone, she might have had no intention of seeing him and the phone call had been simply the impulsive act of an unstable person.
“Obviously if you can’t or you don’t feel like it, no problem,” he said hastily. “I don’t mean to be intrusive, I just
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