looked right into our eyes. The other nuns stood a step or two behind her,
suspended awkwardly. They would glance every so often at the chairs Mr.
Crossen had lined up for them, but their eyes would dart away quickly,
as if he had placed hot coals atop them that would burn their bottoms
should they dare sit. If the sisters fidgeted she spoke with her eyes, swiftly.
They would go still as soon as she turned to them, their eyes would stare
forward blankly and their previously twitching bodies would stiffen,
going completely still like animals that had just been strangled. Then, she
would turn back to us, and for a moment, I could make out deep tides of
masterfully controlled emotions just below a frighteningly thin surface.
I felt, when she stared so sternly into my eyes, that she was one of those
women with killer instincts. She wore a red rosary around her neck, and
in her black clothes with her round body she reminded me of a giant
black widow spider. I could see it so easily, her capturing some tiny insect
mid-flight, injecting her own poison into it. I imagined the way h W"W