11
The hunter runs toward the beast, the shop assistant to the non-customer, and the customer to the non-shop assistant. N. had not managed to tidy the head away, back into the wardrobe, when someone gave a hurried knock at the door and proceeded to walk in without waiting for a reply. Poro. Long time since he’d shown up!
Catching sight of the head on the table, the guest was stunned; it took him a while to regain his senses. But when he did, he grabbed the head and began looking at it from all sides, dousing it with emotions, like varnish. He clearly hoped never to part with it again.
“It’s not mine,” N. declared curtly.
“Whose then?” Poro’s eyes lit up with a child’s greedy passion at the possibility of buying it: it would be a most prestigious purchase, and prestige resounds loud an
