The Metamorphosis

by Franz Kafka

could one day happen even to the manager; you really had to grant the possibility. But, as if in rude reply to this question, the manager took a few decisive steps in the next room and made his patent leather boots creak. From the room on the right his sister whispered, to inform Gregor, “Gregor, the manager is here.” “I know,” Gregor said to himself; but he did not dare raise his voice enough for his sister to hear. “Gregor,” his father now said from the room on the left, “the manager has come and wants to be informed why you didn’t catch the early train. We don’t know what we should say to him. Besides, he wants to speak to you personally. So please open the door. He will certainly be so kind as to excuse the disorder of the room.” “Good morning, Mr. Samsa,” the manager called in a friendly voice. “There’s something the matter with him,” his mother said to the manager while his father was still at the door, talking. “Believe me, sir, there’s something the matter with