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said； helping me up。 It made me think of the way John had helped me up after we'd prayed together。 〃e in and have coffee。〃
I did。 The first morning passed； and the first afternoon； then the first shift back at work。 Time takes it all； whether you want it to or not。 Time takes it all； time bears it away； and in the end there is only darkness。 Sometimes we find others in that darkness； and sometimes we lose them there again。 That's all I know； except that this happened in 1932； when the state penitentiary was still at Cold Mountain。
And the electric chair； of course。
12。
A round quarter past two in the afternoon； my friend Elaine Connelly came to me where I sat in the sunroom； with the last pages of my story squared up neatly in front of me。 Her face was very pale； and there were shiny places under her eyes。 I think she had been crying。
Me； I'd been looking。 Just that。 Looking out the window and over the hills to the east； my right hand throbbing at the end of its wrist。 But it was a peaceful throb； somehow。 I felt empty； husked out。 A feeling that was terrible and wonderful at the same time。
It was hard to meet Elaine's eyes … l was afraid of the hate and contempt I might see there … but they were all right。 Sad and wondering； but all right。 No hate； no contempt； and no disbelief。
〃Do you want the rest of the story？〃 I asked。 I tapped the little pile of script with my aching hand。
〃It's here； but I'll understand if you'd
