Nissa Sergeant (seekyefirst) wrote in britannia_ny, @ 2009-05-03 19:30:00 |
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Current mood: | frightened |
Open
“‘And happy is the man who does not find me a stumbling-block,’” Nissa reads out loud – barely out loud, just loud enough it can’t be said to be under her breath. “‘Happy is the man who does not find me a stumbling-block.’”
She’s sitting at a small table with a chessboard set into it in a park, her Bible lying in front of her, open to Luke chapter seven. The table is under an apple tree, and she must not have moved, nor turned the page, for a long while – there are petals on the page, petals in her hair. Her hands are in her lap, clenched against the fabric of her skirt. She is not quite shaking.
It’s getting late. She knows she should get up, go back to the manse, eat something, but she’s still seeing white hospital walls, a heart monitor, a bustle of confused doctors, a puzzle print of a Thomas Kinkade painting, painstakingly assembled, preserved under glass.