The night was heady and frosty. There was no wind and the air was cold and still. The stars were brilliant and hung low in the sky. There were so many stars that their light made the sky a deep cobalt blue. There wasn’t a moon but the starlight served better than moonlight.
Francie stood on tiptoe and stretched her arms wide. “Oh, I want to hold it all!” she cried. “I want to hold the way the night is—cold without wind. And the way the stars are so near and shiny. I want to hold all of it tight until it hollers out, ‘Let me go! Let me go!’”
“Don’t stand so near the edge,” said Neeley uneasily. “You might fall off the roof.”
“I need someone,” thought Francie desperately. “I need someone. I need to hold somebody close. And I need more than this holding. I need someone to understand how I feel at a time like now. And the understanding must be part of the holding.”- Betty Smith, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn
. h e w n
her throat is, after all, a stamen or matchstick.
