“She really liked you—said to tell you to pop over anytime,” he said. “She’s lonely.”
I nodded. I had recognized that. He excused himself and plodded off to the bathroom, and I gazed around the café while I awaited his return.
Two women around my age were seated at the table next to me, each with a brightly dressed baby.
Both infants were in car seats; one was asleep, the other stared dreamily at a beam of sunlight as it danced on the wall.
The coffee machine hissed into life behind us, and I watched alarm ripple in waves across his face.
In slow motion, his sweet pink mouth puckered into a kiss and then opened wide to release a wail at quite momentous volume.
His mother glanced down and, reassured that he was fine despite the noise, continued her conversation.
The crying got louder. It made evolutionary sense, I supposed, that a baby’s cries of distress would be tuned to precisely the right pitch and volume
to make them impossible for an adult human to ignore.
He was winding himself up now, fists balled furiously, his face getting redder by the minute.
I closed my eyes, tried and failed to ignore the noise. Please stop crying, please stop crying.
I don’t know why you are crying. What do I need to do to make you stop?
전체재생
다음페이지
문장검색