The chaplain wants to see you. The chaplain? He’s never spoken to the chaplain. It can only be, he thinks, that the man knows what he did and wants to talk to him about it. His sin has somehow transmitted itself, he has taken a life, he must pay. But I didn’t mean to. But you did. She was throwing a stone, she bent down to pick it up, a flash of rage passed through him, concomitant with hers. He didn’t think, he hated her, he wiped her away. All in a few seconds, an instant, over and done. Never over, never done.
