Dot steeples her hands and prays.
Dear Lord:
Please help my husband find a way to get along with his difficult boss.
Please help me find a job to support my family.
Please keep my son and daughter safe from those bullies at school.
And please help us get out of this terrible neighborhood by the end of the year.
“And what else can I do for you, Dorothy Laura Whitlock of 351 Windbrook Lane?” The croak of the voice came from behind. She feels a presence in the room.
Dot never prays again.