"But Lute could not speak. The past had turned to stone and was spreading too quickly to the present, freezing her to the connected blocks and shapeless things. She felt it coming on around her mouth. Even if the lips would move the head was mindless rock. In despair she told herself it wouldn't last much longer, her mother would stop crying knowing it was useless, they would speak of something else and the moment would be gone forever. But it was unbearable, Dew sobbing in abandon, her mouth hanging open in her thin face leaned against a half fist, elbow on the table. Lute stoop up and ran out of the room."