Keeping Her Promise
Renee paused outside the door, heart pounding, her right foot slightly in front of the left. Cut it out, she thought to herself. Stop being so nervous. This is silly. She swept her gaze over the church parking lot, looking for something to focus on. A light standard, silver-gray in the sun's touch, cast a tall shadow that seemed to be reaching for her toes. Letting out a soft giggle, she eased off the tip of her black patent leather shoe and leaned back against the cold bricks.
She had been standing here for half an hour now; had been passed by men in suits barely too small for them; women carrying shiny clutch purses on one arm and squirming babies in the other; little girls skipping along in their best dresses, far too frilled for everyday wear; slouchy teenagers whose smile said "glad to be here" even as their eyes suggested they'd rather be in math class or at the dentist. She'd made herself as unapproachable as possible, hiding in the corner, eyes cast down to the ground - never unpolite or unkind, just distracted - and yet she'd received no less than 10 welcomes, 13 hugs, and a purple wildflower from a shy beribboned princess whose head only came up to her knees.
Are people really this kind anymore? she mused as the wind pulled at a wisp of her long oaken hair. Shutting her eyes, she let the breeze reach into the corner of the doorway and play on her face, teasing her bangs into a game of follow the leader. Renee's typical Sunday morning did not include church. As a matter of fact, it was usually more like a typical Sunday mid-afternoon. But she'd promised she'd go through with this, well, experiment, and now her hands were tied. Because if there was one thing Renee Walters was known for, it was keeping promises. A deal was a deal.
Moving slowly towards the door, she gripped the bar handle until her knuckles turned white.
"I'll get that for you, honey." An older woman wearing a pink scarf-like shawl over her shoulders pulled the door open from the other side, then seemed to remember something and headed into the foyer with a purposeful stride.
"Tha-thank you." Renee called to her retreating form. Letting out a loud sigh, she released the bar and folded her hands behind her back. Her white purse slipped down her shoulder and into the crook of her elbow. Taking a deep breath, she stepped over the threshold. As the door swung shut behind her, she glanced back at the billboard overlooking the humble building. A wry smile crossed her lips. Funny they didn't recognize me, God. Do You?
"Channel 18 gets it done! Every Wednesday @ 6:30, catch CZMN News' "Getting Even" with Renee Walters. Got a Problem? Get Justice!"
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Nicely done! I liked your descriptions, especially how her bangs played "follow the leader." For the parts where she's thinking, I would add italics. Italics are for thoughts what quotations are for dialogue.
Lovely writing. I enjoyed the voice, the flow, and the message.