The Before Short Story Series. Part 1 - стр. 17
‘I wouldn't offer it if you were a burden.’ Bosch was looking at Elena with the same blank or perhaps a little bit stiff expression on his face.
‘I'd really appreciate it, Bosch.’
‘OK.’
Elena came up to the automated security and customs control desks, where she had to answer a number of standard questions:
‘What is the purpose of your visit to the United States of America?’
‘Tourism.’
‘Please give some details on the specific purpose of your visit.’
‘I am planning to visit a number of historical sites related to Edgar Poe’s life in Baltimore—this is my main goal. And, of course, my program includes a trip to Washington. I hope to see all the iconic sights in the capital, from the White House to the National Gallery of Arts.’
‘How long are you planning to stay in the U.S.?’
‘One week. I have a return ticket for Friday, end next week.’
The frame around the perimeter of the rack lit up green,
‘Welcome to the U.S. You may pass on.’
Elena noticed a tall black man in a silver jacket in the airport lounge.
‘I started worrying that you'd changed your mind, Bosch. You have such a remarkable appearance, it helps.’ Elena looked at the braids. ‘You are very tall. One can easily find you in such a crowd.’
‘Can we make it less formal. Eh?’
‘Good. I'm for it,’ Elena smiled. ‘Could we have lunch together? I'm a little hungry. And you?’
‘OK.’
‘Are you in no hurry now?’
‘There is time for lunch. Don’t you worry, Elena. If I was in a hurry, I wouldn't be here anymore.’
‘Great.’
‘So anyway, Bosch, may I ask you what you were doing in Spain?’
‘I have a factory near Madrid. Met with new leather suppliers. I had to check on the samples and see my managers.’
‘What's the leather for, Bosch?’
‘My company specializes in leather jackets.’
‘Wow, that's great! I see, your jacket is very cool!’
‘Well, at least, it’s different. It's important to me. To make my things different. And what do you do for a living?’
‘I am an accountant in a small manufacturing company. The factory does plastic windows, doors and the like.’
‘Sounds boring.’
‘I love my job, Bosch.’
‘It's important. I agree.’
‘How's your burger?’
‘Delicious, Elena. Thanks for asking.’
Sitting in a restaurant on the first floor of the airport, Elena and Bosch slowly continued with their lunch, moving on to desserts and coffee, paying no attention to a series of service announcements lost in the infinitely large international terminal of Dulles Airport. Everyone around was hurrying on business. Parents with restless children were obviously aiming at a resort vacation, judging by the bright shorts and the same cheerful shirts the whole family was wearing, which did not quite fit the beginning of the autumn season in any way. Formal business suits, whether of businessmen, lawyers, or maybe politicians, were supposed to emphasize their important social status and gave an unambiguous answer to everyone around—we are busy people, we should not be distracted by any trifles. A couple of young girls, carefree and not hiding fatigue, sailed towards the exit from the airport, seemingly after a long flight.