"L. Lee Lowe - Mortal Ghost" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lowe L Lee)

noticed how Jesse's eyes caught the light as he raised them from his plate. They winked like mirrors, or deep
blue pools, full of hidden and subtle layers of colour.

'Would you like some coffee?' Sarah asked.

'Please.'

Sarah liked that he was polite, that he ate slowly and thoughtfully even though he was clearly ravenous.

Sarah sat across from him while the dog lay at their feet, licking up crumbs. The coffee was hot and strong
and utterly delicious. Sarah took hers black, but Jesse added sugar, lots of sugar, and a dollop of cream from
the jug she'd set before him. Though they'd stopped talking, the silence was not strained or uncomfortable.

When he'd finished the eggs, Sarah rose and prepared a second batch without asking, and two more slices of
toast. He ate everything. Sarah offered him more coffee, but he refused. He could feel some pressure against
the sides of his skull, a mild fogginess. Though coffee could sometimes relieve his headaches, more often it
triggered a debilitating migraine. He'd been lucky in recent months. Perhaps he was only overtired. But what
would he do if he had a full-fledged attack?

Sarah poured herself another mug. Her fingers were not particularly long or fine -- nails short and blunt -- but
her hands carved a line of melody through the air. Reminded of a CD Liam used to play, Jesse hummed a few
bars of Stravinsky's Firebird. Sarah finished the phrase for him.

'I've danced to that,' she said.

'So you do dance,' he said. 'I wondered.'

She swirled the coffee in her mug, a private smile on her face.

'What?' he asked.

'You're not at all what I expected.'

Jesse noticed the faint sprinkle of freckles across the bridge of her nose, the flecks of green in her eyes. He
looked away when she became aware of his scrutiny. The kitchen was warm, and despite the coffee Jesse was
beginning to feel drowsy.

'Do you want to lie down?' Sarah asked. 'I don't mind.'

Jesse played with his fork, considering.

'You shouldn't be so trusting,' he said. 'It's dangerous.'

She laughed, deep and throaty.

'There's a spare bedroom upstairs which has a bath en suite. You're welcome to use it. I'll make up the bed for
you.'

'I can do that myself. You don't have to wait on me.'