Of course he knew I was approaching. His hearing is better than mine; he knew long before I spoke. Andre pulled his hands out through the sleeves of his dirty sweater again, lowered the hood to his shoulders, and wiped his snout and eyes with his hands in a casual gesture.
Maybe he wanted to pretend nothing was happening.
He stayed silent for a moment, staring into the emptiness, and finally said:
“The other day, when I got off at the train station, I stopped to use the phone. I called Mom’s cellphone… and she didn’t answer. That’s why it took me so long to come back to the wagon.”
The air got trapped inside my lungs.
How could he laugh so lively when I brought him back into the wagon? How did he manage not to mention a single word? How could he keep it secret for so long?
Instinctiv
