“Then I heard the wood mill whistle, heard traffic around the square, saw the Williamsburg blue of the bedroom walls, and had the feeling of coming back into myself, a return of the spirit after long night journeys. This was Wednesday, and there were five days left, and what I could see of the sky looked gray. I thought of the boy in the cage who could see no sky, only the impersonal fluorescence. He would hear the muffled sounds of the awakening of the prison, hear the slap of ace on jack i...n the endless card game, the clank and thud of bolt and door as his breakfast was brought. I hoped Vicky still slept, and that there was more comfort for her in sleep than in wakefulness. Jane Ann slept deep under the October grasses, with gray wind moving unheard through the drying leaves that still clung to cemetery elms. And Ginny, her best friend, slept now, perhaps more restlessly, in the closed coffin at Hillman’s Funeral Home on Vineland Avenue.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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