She released her clutch on it as, dizzy with exhaustion, she leaned against the back of the pew and closed her eyes, her fingers grasping out automatically for support. The idea of this sudden reluctance was elusive; the fact was evident but not the reason for it. ’ ‘That’s right,’ agreed the militiaman, coming forward to stand before her. Luckily, she was bereft of consciousness, and was thus spared the additional misery of witnessing what afterwards befell him. Anna herself opened the hall door. It was as if her finite human brain could only store a limit of information, details like hair color and fingernail shape easily jettisoned to make room for the nuances of a grin or the emotion of a shoulder blade.
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