A little Bit of Faith
Instead, we are greeted with a deafening silence and the void she left behind.
We package up the kitchen in record time trying to sort the things it will be easier to get into later. Neither of us is mentally prepared to go through what we should keep and get rid of. Moving to the living room next, we package her books, empty her coffee table and side table contents, placing them in boxes.
There is a knock at the front door and when I open it, I find Faith standing there with takeout food. She smiles mischievously.
“I thought you were going to call me after you got out of therapy?” I ask, not trying to sound rude, but noticing the coldness in my voice has me quickly wanting to backpedal my t
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