Агентство путешествий MODUS - туристические поездки в Чили, Антарктиду и другие страны мира
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Classes were over. Becker wanted to put his books in his locker. We walked there and he dumped them in. He handed me five or six sheets of paper. Here read this. It's a short story." We walked down to my locker. I opened it and handed him a paper bag. Take a hit..." It was a bottle of port. Becker took a hit, then I took one. You always keep one of these in your locker?" he asked. I try to." "Listen, tonight's my night off. Why don't you come meet some of my friends?" "People don't do me much good." "These are different people." "Yeah? Where at? Your place?" "No. Here, I'll write down the address . . ." He began writing on a piece of paper. Listen, Becker, what do these people do?" "Drink," said Becker. I put the slip into my pocket . . . That night after dinner I read Becker's short story.
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