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Her non-arrival, George, had a premonition for a long time, and this premonition was growing, like ringing in her ears.
When the day passed without her, George suddenly felt cold.
For the first time in all the rest, he dressed and then wrapped himself in a cape, fencing off from the wind and the sea.
All night he sat in a cape, listening to the wind that was buzzing over the bay.
He did not know the name or address; he and Kisse did not question each other, fearing to break the shaky outline of their games.
They were ancient gods, and everything else would break their game.
By morning, everything was overcast.
Blue and white were no longer there, but brown, lead,
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steel, graphite gray — from top to bottom, from edge to edge.
When George woke up, he was surprised at the bleached world, stretched his body, put his big toe into the water – and, shivering, pulled out his sneakers and jacket.
All day he waited for her on the beach, and the next day he decided to go around the island.
His mood was as alarming as the wind, who had come from nowhere to the island; Georgy seemed to have a mystery in his rustle, and George thought that he had nerves played like an alcoholic.
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The whole island consisted of rocks, myrtle groves, ruins, white villages, two dozen boarding houses and a large hotel with an aquapark that occupied the eastern shore.
In the boarding houses, no one ever heard of Kisse; bearded fishermen who lived in the villages did not understand a word in English – or pretended they did not understand; he was offered home-made wine, dried fish, a dubious type of antiquity and painted girls, who did not resemble Kissay even when looking at them through a glass of mojito, for the bills received by George from his wallet.
Georgy was surprised to himself that no one on the island resembled Kissay: a completely different type, coarse, characteristically southern, nosy and stocky settled down here.
George was not allowed into the hotel, and he didn’t connect Kisse with the polished lovers of elite rest.
Rummaging all day, George returned to the tent.
Two days left before the plane, he sat on the shore, peering into the leaden sea.
He did not want to eat or sleep, and he did both on autopilot, obeying the body.
The wind grew stronger, and with it George’s anxiety grew stronger.
It seemed to him that the wind was saying something to him, and he only needed to understand what it was.
Inside, he kept a scrap of blue, gradually moving away to nowhere.
Nothing more touched him, and the meaning of life fit all, with head and giblets, in the memories of Kisse, her black eyes and small lips, red as seaweed.
George changed: he began to tremble and slouch, his eyes became limp, his gestures clumsy, as if he were moving in a distorted space. Good cam sex.