irreverently slitted eyes as the services neared their close. “The Grace of our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ, the love of God the Father … now and forevermore, Amen!” droned the minister, his head tilted back, closed eyes raised to the low-hung ceiling.
The human impulse to talk, to move, to be saying or doing something, anything rather than endure introspection however slight, found gushing release as soon as the minister finished. Cloaks and wraps half donned as the benediction was being pronounced were adjusted and feminine hats given the final pat of arrangement, while little eddies of gusts of greeting and conversation flew back and forth. Comments, most of them admiring, were made on the sermon; inquiries, most of them perfunctory, regarding the health of those absent and those present; remarks on the weather, all the petty chitchat which serves as the mucilage that holds together everyday social relations.
Mimi maneuvred