Ok…fragmentele mult promise.Ei…v-am facut un mic rezumat despre kre-i faza cu ”Poti sa tii un secret?”,acum fragmentele ,k sa vedeti cat de socata am fost.Bine macar ca e numai o carte,si e una super simpatica,desi un excelenta.Adica…e buna de omorit timpul,si din colectia chic e cartea mea preferata.
Of course I have secrets.
Of course I do. Everyone has a secret. It’s completely normal. I’m sure I don’t have any more than anybody else.
I’m not talking about big, earth-shattering secrets. Not the-president-is-planning-to-bomb-Japan-and-only-Will-Smith-can-save-the-world type secrets. Just normal, everyday little secrets.
Why is the plane bumping?
Oh God. A sudden rush of fear hits me with no warning. This is madness. Madness! Sitting in this big heavy box, with no way of escape, thousands and thousands of feet above the ground …
Fuck. My head jerks up. What was that bump? Did we just get hit?
OK, don’t panic. It was just a bump. I’m sure everything’s fine. We probably just flew into a pigeon or something. Where was I?
Three hundred and fifty-one. Three hundred and fifty-two. Three hundred and fifty—
And that’s it.
That’s the moment.
Everything seems to fragment.
I hear the screams like a wave over my head, almost before I realize what’s happening.
Oh God. Oh God Oh God Oh God Oh … OH … NO. NO. NO.
We’re falling. Oh God, we’re falling.
We’re going to die.
We’re going to die.
‘I’m sorry?’ The American man in the next seat looks at me, his face tense and white.
Did I just say that aloud?
‘We’re going to die.’ I stare into his face. This could be the last person I ever see alive. I take in the lines etched around his dark eyes; his strong jaw, shaded with stubble.
The plane suddenly drops down again, and I give an involuntary shriek.
‘I don’t think we’re going to die,’ he says. But he’s gripping his seat-arms, too. ‘They said it was just turbulence—’
‘Of course they did!’ I can hear the hysteria in my voice. ‘They wouldn’t exactly say, „OK folks, that’s it, you’re all goners”!’ The plane gives another terrifying swoop and I find myself clutching the man’s hand in panic. ‘We’re not going to make it. I know we’re not. This is it. I’m twenty-five years old, for God’s sake. I’m not ready. I haven’t achieved anything. I’ve never had children, I’ve never saved a life …’ My eyes fall randomly on the ’30 Things To Do Before You’re 30′ article. ‘I haven’t ever climbed a mountain, I haven’t got a tattoo, I don’t even know if I’ve got a G spot …’
‘My career’s a complete joke. I’m not a top businesswoman at all.’ I gesture half-tearfully to my suit. ‘I haven’t got a team! I’m just a crappy assistant and I just had my first ever big meeting and it was a complete disaster. Half the time I haven’t got a clue what people are talking about, I don’t know what logistical means, I’m never going to get promoted, and I owe my dad four thousand quid, and I’ve never really been in love …’
I can’t stop talking. I just can’t stop
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