The young girl bounds on to the stage running in horrified grief. She wails and cries, howls and trembles, screams into the air and then slowly composes herself looking straight out into the audience in a wordless plea to God.
Enter the Pastor behind her. He is wearing a black veil over his face but soon removes it as he begins to speak. The two never make eye contact. Instead he remains a few steps behind her at all times.
“I’m done resting Ethan, how ‘bout you?” I whisper.
We both feel soft after practicing yoga and our hour-long, turning-within meditation technique. We’re still resting on the large mat that covers half the floor of our studio apartment. Two years ago while learning this technique, we met and three months later we moved-in, meditating together ever since. Continue reading The Caregiver→
Lady feels liberated. She glides through the hallway. The day’s events sift and fall through her head like fairy dust. Blue carpeting ripples under foot like a rising tide.