Archive for the 'Saunders' Category

George Saunders, 1996

10 marzo 2017

From behind him on the path came a series of arrhythmic whacking steps. He glanced back to find Aldo Cummings, an odd duck, who though nearly forty, still lived with his mother. Cummings didn’t work and had his bangs cut straight across and wore gym shorts even in the dead of winter. Morse hoped Cummings wouldn’t collar him. When Cummings didn’t collar him, and in fact passed by without even returning his nervous, self-effacing grin, Morse felt guilty for having suspected Cummings of wanting to collar him, then miffed that Cummings, who collared even the city-hall cleaning staff, hadn’t tried to collar him. Had he done something to offend Cummings? It worried him that Cummings might not like him, and it worried him that he was worried about whether a nut like Cummings liked him.

The falls »

Avvertì una specie di trottata aritmica alle sue spalle. Si voltò e vide Aldo Cummings, uno strano soggetto che, sebbene prossimo agli anta, viveva ancora con la madre. Cummings non lavorava, portava i capelli alla paggetto e girava in calzoncini da palestra anche in pieno inverno. Morse sperò che non attaccasse bottone. Quando non solo Cummings non attaccò bottone, ma passò senza nemmeno ricambiare il suo nervoso accenno di sorriso, Morse si sentì in colpa per aver sospettato che volesse attaccare bottone, ma poi si urtò perché Cummings, che attaccava bottone addirittura con gli inservienti del municipio, non aveva cercato di attaccare bottone con lui.

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