Читать книгу Not fairy tales онлайн
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With a chuckle, the girl immediately put him out of her mind.
The white fangs dug into the still twitching carp, slashing into its side. Watery fish blood dripped down her smooth chin and onto her chest.
Trash
The lock beeped approvingly at the key-card signal. The door to her parents’ apartment hissed to the side, revealing a long narrow hallway.
Una stepped inside and winced: the mixed smell of fried fish, baked goods, and cheap perfume hit her nose so hard it made her eyes water.
The girl walked lightly across the hallway, stopping on the threshold of the living room on the left.
As she might expect, they were home.
Her father was sprawled out on the shabby brown couch, spreading his flabby body on the greasy cushions, staring at the projection on the holovisor. It was brand-new, the latest model, with gleaming blue sides and a clear picture, but the packaging tape had not been removed yet. It was just another show about some kind of outside intervention. It wasn’t interesting, though…