Balanced on a small aluminum stepladder with a feather duster in her hand, the well-read nurse was swiping gently at the tops of the shelves, which bowed beneath the weight of masses of tattered books. Her outstretched arms caused the back of her smock to rise, revealing a sizable portion of her thighs, still bronzed from a recent summer holiday. Gabriel enjoyed the show for the time it took her to dust two meters worth; then, suddenly conscious of a presence, she spun around and tugged futilely at the bottom of her smock. —Hello … She remained perched on the ladder, the feather bouquet aimed at the ceiling, her eyes exactly level with Gabriel’s. —Hello … I was passing by, and I stopped to see if there was any news about André Sloga. She rested her elbow between two volumes of the Petit Robert dictionary. —The news is good … At least, better … He left intensive care early this afternoon, and he’s in the trauma unit now, resting … —Do the doctors have a prognosis?
What do You think about Nazis In The Metro (2014)?
