Wise Blood

by Flannery O'Connor

The pink tip of Mrs. Watts’s tongue appeared and moistened her lower lip. She seemed just as glad to see him as if he had been an old friend but she didn’t say anything. He picked up her foot, which was heavy but not cold, and moved it about an inch to one side, and kept his hand on it. Mrs. Watts’s mouth split in a wide full grin that showed her teeth. They were small and pointed and speckled with green and there was a wide space between each one. She reached out and gripped Haze’s arm just above the elbow. “You huntin’ something?” she drawled. If she had not had him so firmly by the arm, he might have leaped out the window. Involuntarily his lips formed the words, “Yes, mam,” but no sound came through them. “Something on your mind?” Mrs. Watts asked, pulling his rigid figure a little closer. “Listen,” he said, keeping his voice tightly under control, “I come for the usual business.” Mrs. Watts’s mouth became more round, as if she were perplexed at this waste of words. “Make yourself at home,” she said simply.