The sky was grey, Anita was sad. She was sad because she was going to an empty home, alone, again.

The words of one ‘Mide babe echoed in her head,

“If you do what you’ve always done, you’d be where you’ve always been”

Where had she always been? A state of denial, she agreed. For once in a long while, she was going to have a conversation with God.

The gala seller she drove past  on her way home seemed happy. The kind of happiness exuded by those agile dancers in she saw in Sunday church service. Were they just pretending or were they truly happy?

The honk from the car behind her shot through her thoughts. Soon she would be home,
each kilometre driven bringing her closer; closer to reality.

She dreaded opening her door. Afraid she would have to confront the part of her she had ignored for six months. Afraid, no one would hear her cry, not even the chair. Yet she prayed.

“I thought I would have enough venom to spit, but I don’t.
  All I have are shattered words from a broken heart.
  I can’t say all I want to say,
  Because I don’t even know where to start from

  I thought I was numb but I am not
  I thought the feelings were dead but they aren’t
  I still can’t get over him
  I still can’t forgive them

  All I know is I need to move on
  All I know is You need to help me
  To help me find the words I can’t conjure
  To help me, lest I drown, never to rise again”

With tear filled eyes, she slept, believing the next day would just be another day.

I believe it wasn’t, ’cause I heard God answers prayers and I know he heard her.

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