with the wind. He was on the porch, throwing himself against thedoor. Lucy sighed. All of these men were so disappointing.“He wants to get in,” Michael said without looking down. He waschewing on his bottom lip again. By now it was swollen and flayed.“I’m sure he does,” Lucy agreed, “but that’s not our problem anymore.”Michael ran his hands through his hair, chewed on his lip somemore.“But the rain… I remember it. Cold and empty and endless. Everything out there reminds you of the life you used to have, and therain just comes down and washes it all away. It’ll drive him mad.”“There’s nothing we can do,” Lucy turned to him, exasperated. “Wehave to worry about ourselves now, don’t you understand? We haveto pray for the rain to stop. We’ll all find what we’re looking forwhen it stops.”“What are you looking for?”Lucy pressed her lips together and studied the teapot, frowning.She knew what she was looking for. She had always known.“This time,” she whispered, so soft that Michael could barely hear,“I’m going to make my Mommy proud.”36Michael watched the other visitors crawl back into the darknesstowards their faraway rooms to wait for another day, another visitor.He stood carefully and made his way to where Lucy stood, diggingaround for a packet of chamomile tea. He took the broken teapot inhis hands and traced the cracks.
It seems that your browser's pop-up blocker has prevented us from opening a new window/tab. Please click the button below to open the link manually.