The little white bundletoddling dutifully down the hall to the front doorfroze. Then a high-pitched scream as he began to run as fast as he could (which was not very fast at all, any more) and Boriswhooping with laughterdropped to his knees.Oh! snatching him up, as Popchik wriggled and struggled. You got fat! He got fat! he said indignantly as Popchik jumped up and kissed him on the face. You let him get fat! Yes, hello, poustyshka, little bit of fluff you, hello! You remember me, dont you? He had toppled over on his back, stretched out and laughing, as Popchikstill screaming with joyjumped all over him. He remembers me!

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Donna Tartt, The Goldfinch.

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