I Prayed for a Miracle—Now I Lock My Door at Night

“What do you mean?” she asked, still smiling but slower now.

I swallowed hard.

“I mean,” I said, voice trembling, “the boy you prayed for didn’t come back. Someone else did. And I’m… I’m scared in my own home.”

Her smile froze. Her eyes flicked to my scarf, my sleeves.

A mother behind me shifted uncomfortably.

The pharmacy felt suddenly too bright, too continue reading …