Its departure was taking her sanity with it. She was no longer aware that she was standing in a courtyard, her own garden; she no longer felt the clothes against her skin or the sun on her face. She felt something violent at her shoulders, something that shook her so hard the fragments of thought that had scattered with her mind were jumbled up in twos and threes until some of them were thrown together in the violence and began to process signals in some kind of informational order. Something began to make a vague sort of sense. It was Willy that was shaking her, that was her first clear impression. Her vision began to function dimly. She saw his face. Felt his big hands on her. He was staring at her intensely, but his eyes seemed pulled out sideways in a panic, as if they were on elastic bands. She felt his physical power. She had feeling. It was getting more real. His mouth was open. She began to hear the sounds, but not the words. Then her name. Anna! Anna! She was suddenly overwhelmed by the aftershock from the trauma that had struck a single second before.
