Worry looks down, mouth caught between a smirk and a frown: it wasn’t her, but it just as easily could have been, in another time, at another place. Sorry stops, starts reversing, in preparation for a hasty retreat, reaches into a pocket, extracts a hanky, sniffs. Faith sits down, starts praying: “Help me Father, for I have sinned. I accept your punishment gladly. Tell me, how shall I make amends?” The clouds grumble. The pigeon lands. A cow opens its mouth, yawns.
Worry shivers. Sorry weeps. Faith takes a tentative step. The path becomes a wood. The trodden, unkempt. She advances towards what could quite possibly be a very prickly end.
Worry observes her departure and fears for her health. Sorry laments her sacrifice, filled with sudden regret. Faith mutters “good riddance to false and poisonous friends”.
On the path it starts to rain. Worry gets wet. Sorry puts on the handkerchief.
In the forest the sun comes out. A stag appears and Faith follows it. The course may be undetermined, but her conviction remains the same: it will lead to the destination, wherever that is.
by Rebecca L. Atherton
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