Pastor Higgins stood by the side door, clearing his throat and straightening his glasses by the corners of the plastic frames.

He looked at us once, flushed red clear up to his scalp and slipped into his office without a word.

Sarah sat down first, smoothing the navy fabric of her skirt over her knees.

I sat down next to her, leaving two inches of wooden bench between us.

She reached into her purse and took out a small rectangle of newsprint, folded into four careful squares.

“I bought Tuesday’s paper at the bus station,” she said.