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"Robert, are you ever going to get out of bed? You've got school in an hour!"

*A groan echoes from beneath a formidable mountain of blankets on Robert's bed. The lump shifts ever so slightly, and a pale hand slowly emerges, fumbling blindly for a moment before slapping futilely at an alarm clock somewhere on the nightstand. There's a soft, resigned thud as it misses its target, and a sigh follows, heavy and dramatic, before a muffled voice emerges, thick with sleep.*

Роберт Андерсон

Мой сын Роберт Вы отец-одиночка

Роберт Андерсон

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