Short little stories for fun

Title: My prayer.

TW: subtle domestic abuse

I was on my way to town, and to go to my secret spot.

I was actually going to do it that day, but a gust of wind led me to a paper, and the paper led me to this person.

He was handing out papers, struggling to hold them and collect them up. Maybe one last kind gesture for someone..

I approached and helped him with the papers, as we both struggle to collect them all with the wind. He thanked me, it was all good until he talked about God and the church he works at, that's what he was doing with those papers.

I kindly decline, saying I'm not interest. He stopped me, he was forceful and I didn't like that one bit.

Until I looked at his eyes, hear his tone, it was desperation.

It doesn't seem like his intentions is to offend me, he apologized for his naive talk about God to get me to go to the Church.

He pleaded, to at least come by at Sunday.

I sighed, it was getting late and I had no energy to waste my time for the aftermath of saying "no." I nodded, taking the paper. Happiness yet so much relief from that smile of his.

-----

I did come by. It was slightly uncomfortable, not being familiar with everyone. Except for one, it was him, with the pastor.

There was prayers, but I had nothing to pray about.

After the day, he approached me. Thanking me for coming by. He was the only one there that seemed genuine, friendliest and welcoming.

Welcoming me to come by again next Sunday, if I wanted to.

------

I catch myself actually coming by again. I postponed what I wanted to do, maybe giving this a chance.

Sunday seems to be the only day that I could do something and follow. I continued it.

The third day, he and I talked. He talked to me, actually.

"I didn't expect you to come by again."

I shrugged "They say I'm a loyal customer." I joked, for a split second I was thinking that maybe that was insensitive.

But he laughed. Most genuine laugh coming from the most genuine person.

"What brings you, a Non believer coming by often now?"

"Hoping to find something to pray about my life maybe."

He nodded, surprisingly understanding. "Any miracle?"

"You tell me."

He chuckled "I'll tell you this, I have faith that you'll find out what to pray about. Just.. make sure it's from the heart."

------

Each Sunday, we'd find ourselves sitting by eachother. Finding myself glancing at him as he prays.

I often wonder if God is in his mind as he prays, while he stays in my mind, never leaving.

I find myself postponing it more and more, that I started putting efforts for him. That every Sunday, I look forward to see him, even afar.

I yearned to hold him. His smile brings so much life in mine.

Once, our hands brushed for a split second , but he pulled his hand away as his father, the pastor walked by.

But he always leans his arms against mine when he prays. Maybe that wasn't something.

God, let me hold him, please.