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aw it that day； those men … they saw what sometimes grins behind the smile。
Sitting on the riverbank in a faded； bloodstained jumper was the biggest man any of them had ever seen … John Coffey。 His enormous； splay…toed feet were bare。 On his head he wore a faded red bandanna； the way a country woman would wear a kerchief into church。 Gnats circled him in a black cloud。 Curled in each arm was the body of a naked girl。 Their blonde hair； once curly and light as milkweed fluff； was now matted to their heads and streaked red。 The man holding them sat bawling up at the sky like a moonstruck calf； his dark brown cheeks slicked with tears； his face twisted in a monstrous cramp of grief He drew breath in hitches； his chest rising until the snaps holding the straps of his jumper were strained； and then let that vast catch of air out in another of those howls。 So often you read in the paper that 〃the killer showed no remorse；〃 but that wasn't the case here。 John Coffey was torn open by what he had done 。。。 but he would live。 The girls would not。 They had been torn open in a more fundamental way。
No one seemed to know how long they stood there； looking at the howling man who was； in his turn； looking across the great still plate of the river at a train on the other side； storming down the tracks toward the trestle that crossed the river。 It seemed they looked for an hour or for forever； and yet the train got no farther along； it seemed to storm only in one place； like
