Читать книгу Crocodile Tears онлайн

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Antinucci stands up, walks towards the nave, his eyes lowered and his arms crossed over his chest, takes his place at the end of a line of three or four old ladies, advances slowly while keeping his distance, waits his turn and takes Communion. He returns to the exact spot where he was 40sitting before, kneels with his head bowed between his hands, and prays until the Host dissolves in his saliva, prays until not one crumb is left, until he cannot feel a single particle in his entire mouth. He searches with his tongue, checks his palate, his gums, the gaps between his teeth. There is no trace of the body of Christ. He sighs, comforted.

A few minutes later, he leaves the building with its smell of incense and disinfectant and goes out into the even more intense cold of the street, ready to face the world.

Outside, Antinucci is surrounded by beggars with pale faces and outstretched hands. He hurriedly distributes some coins, averts his gaze from the beggars’ faces and walks towards his car, parked a hundred yards down the street.