(no subject)
Sunday morning, and Becky had sneaked off to a nice private little spot in the trees, a fallen log that provided a nice bench while she did her usual Sunday morning thing. Usually she was much earlier, before other people were up and about, but she'd had a late night.
She slipped off one of the crucifixes from around her neck-- the one that was also a rosary, and let the beads slide through her fingers with comforting familiarity. "Hail Mary," she murmured, "full of grace, the Lord is with thee; blessed art thou among women..."
Of course, she didn't always just think of the Holy Mother. It was a time to think about her own mom, far away, and pray like hell the old lady was alright.
She slipped off one of the crucifixes from around her neck-- the one that was also a rosary, and let the beads slide through her fingers with comforting familiarity. "Hail Mary," she murmured, "full of grace, the Lord is with thee; blessed art thou among women..."
Of course, she didn't always just think of the Holy Mother. It was a time to think about her own mom, far away, and pray like hell the old lady was alright.