Clint wasn't sure if he'd slept. The room was darker, though the window seemed bright enough, and the light that came in through the open door was still strong. But his hand relentlessly held Anna's arm and he had to fight to loosen his fingers and release his grip and his legs were numb from hours of kneeling without moving. He looked around.
Ma Cody was asleep. Anna still breathed shallowly. The only real movement came from the motes of dust that whirled unconscious and insensate in the door's intruding sunlight. Otherwise, all was lifeless in a deathly unliving scene.
Neville Hunt about 2 years ago
Love the penultimate sentence. Beautifully crafted.