Abigail

by Magda Szabó

She continued to grip her father’s hand, but it was now the grip of a comrade in arms, brave and comforting. It was what he had hoped for, and it gave him strength.

until nineteen girls sat with tightly interlocked fingers, as if trying to measure their collective strength by the warmth of their neighbors’ hands.

just as the tragedy reached its climax one of the actors smiled and asked the others if they would like a dried plum.