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358 pages, Hardcover
First published April 7, 2016
She’s in a dressing gown, A solid, surly woman…like someone who sells you a train ticket to Zagreb, frowning at you through the perforated glass as you try to explain what it is you want, while the queue lengthens. Short hair. Little buds of gold in her earlobes, Breath that smells of cigarette smoke, bacteria.
She says something to Murray in a sharp, imperative voice.
“She says you should relax,” is the translation…
He has the weird fear that she’s going to ask him to strip.