Does this ever happen to you?

A Fiction in 58:

Questions & Answers
The votive was lemongrass-scented and was nestled in a chipped China teacup; the flame etched shadows into the textured ceiling.
A shifting gloom he stared at through tear-welled eyes. His hands were pressed tight, palms together, thumbs piercing his chest. He said silent prayers; sought answers to questions he found critical.
And feared the silence in his heart.

1 comments:

J.C. Montgomery said...

There have been times in my life that I too have prayed, bargained, cajoled for anyone or anything to hear me. All I wanted was to be heard as that seemed as much, or perhaps more important than the answer.