Mangled Shoes

Untitled Part 47

Deborah heard their talk as their voices filtered into the bedroom. A week? She knew her friend Goom loved her just as much as she did.

Goom grabbed an egg carton, butter, onions, and a frying pan. He was prepared to cook like a pro. Breakfast is a universal meal. Zion, tired, asked in a raspy, heavy voice.

How do you do this? Simply put, when are these folks going to be leaving? And you pull out an egg carton?

"Zion, we are all going to eat."

"If we are all going to eat Goom, it doesn't matter. I will not allow your friends to consume all of our food."

It had escaped him that these were also his pals. If not pals, then at least his acquaintances and neighbors

The tears welled up in Debbie's eyes. Why was she the one who had to listen in on their conversation?

Even here, she found that she was not entirely accepted. Suppose she was in this situation where she was contributing nothing. Goom turned a disgusted gaze toward his brother. He had a knack for communicating his disappointment to you. "Loving your neighbor as yourself" was much easier said than done, but Zion would never understand.

Deborah mumbled as she held a cushion to her chest.

I'm at the end of my rope. Lord, please help me; I'm so tired."

She made a simple request as she raised her face, besmirched with tears, to the ceiling.

"Father, please forgive me." She realized that this was her chance to be saved.

The girl stirred, drawn by the sunlight streaming through the slats.

There had to be someone out there if the others weren't going to be around all the time. In any case, her parents are emotionally distant and unresponsive.

Was there any chance left? A chance to live in the Promised Land? How about putting her past haram crimes behind her? What were the consequences of violating the Torah?

What should I do next? One week?

It felt far too long to be here, where Zion was making her feel uneasy, afraid, and intimidated. Naturally, he had no idea what he was doing. In a sense, he was still in this drunken blackout state of consciousness.

This group was not suited for alcoholism. A few who had been crouched down on couches felt particularly repulsed when they woke up. The pair from the back of the house was experiencing uncomfortable physical side effects. A few of the teenagers reported having severe headaches. Staring at one another, those who had danced it off all night undoubtedly felt its unexpectedly powerful intensity. They all shared one thing at the moment.

They were all depressed. Cathy ran to the lavatory. It seemed as though someone had put a firm grip on her skull. Her body is telling her yes, even as her mind is screaming no. Her body was persuaded that she could dance to tracks like "slender big momma" and other such house music for a few more nights.