Vladimir Nabokov. Lik
Vladimir Nabokov. LIK
"Go away, it's all right," she said calmly, and then, with a polite smile, Lik stumbled out of the house.
His first sensation was one of relief. He had escaped from the orbit of that drunken, moralizing moron. Then came a mounting horror: he was sick to his stomach, and his arms and legs belonged to different people. How was he to perform that night? The worst of all, though, was that his whole body, which seemed to consist of ripples and dots, sensed the approach of a heart attack. It was as if an invisible stake were pointing at him and he might impale him