38.“Good morning, Robert Red.”
Robert Red turned his gaze to that sweet and persuasive voice, which, however, could not hide a certain mocking sarcasm.
A greyish man with his hair up and sports clothes stared at him, leaning his buttocks over a coffee table near the bed.
“Of course, you could pick a name a bit less obvious,” he continued.
Robert Red looked at him petrified without saying a word, but his eyes were sufficiently expressive.
The greyish man continued: “It was much better the name we had before.”
“That we had?”
“Oh, yes, I am sorry. I am letting your mind confuse me too. I meant my name.”
“And you are…?”
“Who am I…? Didn’t you get it yet? My poor Robert, if I can still call you that! I am you. Or rather, I’m Imogen Fry, who else can I be? I don’t know who you want to b
