Unformatted text preview: s slowly opened and closed. Yuri ordered soup from room service, bread and butter, wine. He didn't know what else to do for this man. The man lay there smiling at him, as if he found something in Yuri's manner endearing. Yuri knew that expression. His mother had often looked at him in that way. Yuri went into the bathroom to smoke a cigarette, so the smoke would not bother the man. When the soup came he fed the man spoon by spoon. The room was nice and warm. And he did not mind lifting the wineglass to the man's lips. It made him feel good to see the man eat. His own hunger in recent months among the gypsies had been a terrible, terrible thing to him, something he'd never known as a little child. Only when some of the wine trickled down the man's badly shaven chin did Yuri realize that part of this man's body was paralyzed. The man tried to move his right arm and hand but couldn't. Indeed, it had been with his left hand that he'd been trying to write in the cafe, Yuri realized, and with his left hand that he had taken his money from h...
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This note was uploaded on 02/20/2010 for the course WRITING 220.200 taught by Professor Julie during the Spring '10 term at Johns Hopkins.
- Spring '10