"FWLS39" - читать интересную книгу автора (A Future We'd Like to See)

started pushing me along the tile flooring. Fairly strong for a
waitress.

Before I could object, the back door had locked behind me,
leaving me depressed, not drunk, and getting drenched in C'atel's
constant rainstorm.

Life sucks, I determined, and headed out of the back alley.
I made it for ten steps before crashing into someone.

There was a general change in POV, from standing level to
face down on the pavement level. A number of books in plastic
wrap scattered around the puddled pavement, as well as a book
bag, and a groaning form.

"Argh," I moaned, pulling myself up.

I wasn't the only one in agony, though. There was someone
else, probably the person I bumped into, grabbing at her ankle.
I shrugged, and figured I'd lend a hand.

"Here, grab on," I said, offering her my hand. She pulled
herself up to standing.

"Oww," she emitted. "My bad ankle, too. Thanks, mister.
Hey! My books!"

She pointed in horror as the street-streams sucked her books
down the gutter, pushed into the oblivion by C'atel's leakage
problem. Maybe Nancy'd find them later tonight.

"Jeez, and I just BOUGHT those!" she groaned. "Life sucks."

"What were they?" I asked.

"Not much... few poetry books."

?

"Cyberpunk poetry?" I asked.

"Funny that you should mention it, but yeah, they...
were..." she trailed off, turning around to face me.

Gaah gawk gape ack thpbbbt. Blonde hair, about my size,
same clothing style, not too thin, not too built... just... cute.
And a pair of eyes crystal blue as the waters of...

"Do I know you?" she asked. I quickly shook my head to get
the First Impression Syndrome out. Maybe this was that 'Looking