The struggle is Christian.
"Jesus, please, I pray. Let the next relationship I have be the very last one..."
"I hope, and I pray that you hear me... "
Kelly opened her eyes and glanced at the passenger beside her. Her face felt warm from that angle, because she sat in the aisle seat on the third row of the bus.
An urgency struck her again, because the bulge on the man's left eye evidently didn't come from any medical incisions - more of a lynching incident. Whatever faith she married at the time of her leave from home div
orced her spirit - this. bus route sucked.
Make no mistake. She rang the bell to get right off the bus at the next stop. Three buses so far and no hope of any interviews. She got off Downtown, but the bus turned Eastward towards South East Houston. She felt the cool October wind unpress her insides that moment. She was safe.
"Jesus, You keep me safe even in danger..."
Kelly paused, as she suddenly needed the time. Downtown Houston glued her eyes, as it always had. Though opposite from small town island life in Saint Ann, Jamaica where she grew up, the idea of being a structural genius in some top floor office made her worship the sight.
Kelly's life struck people as odd. Oddball, schomdball is what she acted like, because fortune favors the brave - Kelly, the brave warrior against the lions. Right now, all she needed was the time.
Her growing favorite aqua green scarf from Walmart warmed her throat. A long-sleeve white V-neck dressed her scathy top, and dark-blue jeans flaunted her tall legs, with black, high-heel boots that dressed her feet.
Newspaper angels in suits disappeared sequentially leaving her time to gather the circumstances again. "Yes... I need the time!"
