At the back of her mind, dim and yet disconcerting, was the perception that she herself did not know what she wanted. John’s demeanor shifted. " "Oh, that!" she said, with a deprecating gesture. Just me and another girl named Krista who turned eighteen and left right about when I got there. And she buried herself beneath the straw, which she tossed above her head with the wildest gestures. Nothing anyone could say or do would change him. But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face.
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