دانلود رمان انگلیسی “مرد هزار چهره”

I WAIT IN THE BEDROOM because I know she will only come in here after putting her daughter to bed, finishing her wine, and locking the doors. I look at the folded pink pyjamas. When she is done downstairs, she will come to the bedroom, take the pyjamas from the bed, and put them on. Only then will she go to the bathroom. She always does everything in the same order. Every night is the same. I read in a scientific article that humans do almost everything unconsciously. We only really think about five per cent of our decisions—if I understood correctly. If that’s true, then all of us are soldiers; we are only allowed to make decisions if something doesn’t happen according to plan. Downstairs, the floors creak. I follow the sound through the living room, to the kitchen island. There it stops. I hear glass on marble. She drinks one or two glasses of red wine while watching TV. For some reason, she won’t put the empty glass in the dishwasher until tomorrow. A few seconds later, she drinks some water and then walks to the hallway. Same routine every time. Every night is the same. Until tonight. Tonight, a man wearing a balaclava is sitting in her bedroom. After tonight, opening a door will never be the same. Again, creaking downstairs. The sound moves through the hallway to the front door. One by one, the lights are switched off. My breathing is too superficial. I rub my hands on my trousers. It doesn’t help, because I’m wearing gloves. The plastic curtain cords rattle in their pulleys.