"Wait," he shouts, feeling as though his brashness has robbed Agnes of peace. He slips his other arm behind her knees to lift her. She's so light his eyes blur. Whoever's outside will take her wherever she must go. Perhaps Woody ought to accompany her once he has let Greg know, but where is Greg? If he's not on the sales floor, Woody can't leave; the store would be unguarded. Only one, he finds himself thinking again, only one. First he should take care of Agnes and then deal with the store. He eases Agnes head first out of the exit and paces into the fog, over the blackening tarmac, towards the lights and the moist snuffling. As he advances he takes a moment to prepare his face. Whatever his burden, he still represents Texts. The least he can do is smile.
The Overnight Page 38