“Well, time for me to go . . .” I kissed O, shook hands with R, and went to the elevator. On the avenue, having already crossed to the other side, I looked around: there were gray-blue, opaque cages of lowered blinds in the light, sun-pervaded glass block of buildings—cages of rhythmical Taylorized happiness. On the seventh floor, my eyes found R-13’s cage: he had already lowered the blinds.
