By Dante A Murray
The girl who cleans my room tells me I remind her of her father: a preacher who lives in strict accordance with the Bible. I just think I bear a resemblance to Ichabod Crane.
This so-called resemblance startled her greatly, and upon seeing me for the first time, she had difficulty breathing and had to leave the room.
One day she stops mopping, turns to me, and says, “I’m pregnant and Russell has left me. He said the child couldn’t be his and asked why I was doing this to him.”
A tear runs down her cheek. “Please forgive me, Father.”
Very satisfying story, especially the last line. I really didn’t expect that!
Thank you Bobby, neither did I
I enjoyed the cadence of this story, the father-supplement, the comparison of the harsh reality of her situation, and the unreality of her reaching out to her father. Very nicely written.
Delivered like a punch … very well done.