| OCR Text |
Show Acting Alone Page 17 As she leaned over Simone, to tend to her body as well as to catch every word of her wisecracking, Polycarpana's locket fell loose and brushed Simone's nose in a small pendulum arc. Simone seemed to forget her pain for a moment and, like a baby fascinated with a shiny new toy, reached out for the plump little silver heart. Midway she pulled her hand back, shyly gazing up through candlelight into her friend's eyes. She gave a lower-lip-sucking look that said, Here, Polly. May I be terribly, fearfully intimate with you for one moment? And, as the Hail Marys were starting up, deep in these tornado howling tunnels, as the other nuns were praying through the intercession of the Blessed Virgin for the deliverance of Sister Gorgonia from the claws of the godless Intruder, Simone Stylite was fingering the heart around her cellmate's neck, remarking on a peculiarity of the casting of the silver. Polly dabbed more sweetish sweat from her cellmate's soft white brow. "Your locket is different from mine or anybody else's, Polly," whispered Simone. "It's swollen and tarnished all dark on one side, like it's been burned." |
