The thermostat on the wall of the apartment read 8:00 PM, though the light outside was still a bruised, stubborn purple. The air conditioner in the living window was rattling like a dying engine, doing nothing but pushing the hot air around the room in lazy circles.
Boris was home.
Suddenly, the heavy silence of the apartment was broken by the slam of a car door outside. the goldfinch book page 300 new
He lifted it out carefully. It was heavy, heavier than a book, heavier than a brick. It was a dense, concentrated weight of centuries. The thermostat on the wall of the apartment