I took a breath. Pictured the bed waiting for me upstairs. Then retreated to the lobby
bar alone and ordered an ice-cold gin martini, a small signal to myself that my work was
done. I held the glass, its inverted construction an insult to gravity and the order of things.
Just like our Movement, from the outside the balance of power seems all wrong. But hold a
martini glass in your hand and you know instinctively that it is just right.
So he stopped at the first of them, a frigid hothouse whose front tipped forward over the street in defiance of gravity, taste, and ordinance; inside, the tender daytime flowers could be seen huddling in family groups beneath a constant, unseen sun, and behind them was the hermetic door to the dark Cactus Room where the shy nocturnal plants, genus cereus, could bloom in privacy at any hour. Vivien, once out of the car, appeared less constrained. She did not have that stiffness so many have on first entering bars, that air of waiting stubbornly for alcohol to loosen them, which so often presages their manner when it comes' time for bed. She was already excited when the martinis came.
Douglas WoolfMartinis in a can, Callie. We live in an age of wonders.
Jeffrey EugenidesPagina 1 di 1.
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