Curley's wife lay with a half-covering of yellow hay.
And the meanness and the plannings and the discontent and the ache for attention were all gone from her face.
She was very pretty and simple, and her face was sweet and young.
Now her rouged cheeks and her reddened lips made her seem alive and sleeping very lightly.
The curls, tiny little sausages, were spread on the hay behind her head, and her lips were parted.
As happens sometimes, a moment settled and hovered and remained for much more than a moment.
And sound stopped and movement stopped for much, much more than a moment.
Then gradually time awakened again and moved sluggishly on.
The horses stamped on the other side of the feeding racks and the halter chains clinked.
Outside, the men's voices became louder and clearer. From around the end of the last stall old Candy's voice came.
“Lennie,” he called. “Oh, Lennie! You in here? I been figuring some more. Tell you what we can do, Lennie.”
Old Candy appeared around the end of the last stall. “Oh, Lennie!” he called again; and then he stopped, and his body stiffened.
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