Small World [antikvár]

Monday Kate: What's going on in there? He sleeps beside me, betraying nothing. Two feet away; on another planet entirely. How can you be with a man for ten years only to be mugged by the realization that you don't know him? That inside his head there's a world to which you are not even an occasional visitor? Is this what happens to couples? You meet, learn his shoe size, favourite singer, general likes and dislikes -enough, basically, to feel simpático - get married, switch off. Is this how he feels about me? That beyond how I take my coffee and my aversion to movie violence, he doesn't know me at all? No, I haven't got time for this. Not at two in the morning. In seven hours I have to stand before the partners and give the impression that I drafted the actual Employment Act all by myself. 'Contracts of employment: breach of contract and deductions from wages (PL810) . . .' Why am I reading this at gone two? Cameron's awake now. Crying. Poor little muffin. I'll go and see what— No! I have not got time for this. Probably wants his rabbit. Let Christie see to him. Come on, Kate, contracts of employment! But, Marco, what the hell is going on in that pretty head of yours? Marco: I'm outside the shop . . . Just like it is in real life, but enhanced . . . Shop: remixed . . . Pinker, more fragrant . . . 7