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Автор: Franz Kafka

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Well, there's still some hope; once I've got the money together
to pay off my parents' debt to him-another five or six years I
suppose-that's definitely what I'll do. That's when I'll make the
big change. First of all though, I've got to get up, my train
leaves at five."
And he looked over at the alarm clock, ticking on the chest of
drawers. "God in Heaven!" he thought. It was half past six and
the hands were quietly moving forwards, it was even later than
half past, more like quarter to seven. Had the alarm clock not
rung? He could see from the bed that it had been set for four
o'clock as it should have been; it certainly must have rung. Yes,
but was it possible to quietly sleep through that
furniture-rattling noise? True, he had not slept peacefully, but
probably all the more deeply because of that. What should he do
now? The next train went at seven; if he were to catch that he
would have to rush like mad and the collection of samples was
still not packed, and he did not at all feel particularly fresh
and lively. And even if he did catch the train he would not avoid
his boss's anger as the office assistant would have been there to
see the five o'clock train go, he would have put in his report
about Gregor's not being there a long time ago.

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