The hands of the clock pointed straight up. Midnight in the Cresent City.
"Let's blow this pop stand." Sheryl held the elevator door.
I scanned the office and stepped into the elevator car. "I think the city's safe."
"It's in God's hands."
"Right on sister." (45)
The nurse had a worried look.
I stroked the older woman's gray hair. "Hey, Christy," I whispered.
"Any word?" Pastor Bob stuck his head in the door.
"She's going home Bob."
He stepped into the room. "Jesus is waiting." (39)
Barking dogs always woke me.
I picked up the phone and dialed Manny, my fiance.
His caller ID gave me away. "Nan, do you know what time it is?"
"Yeah, couldn't sleep. Could we do a telephone prayer?"
Manny chuckled, "better than counting sheep." (44)
Police officers strung yellow tape around the accident scene.
The Times reporter nudged me. "What happened?"
"He jigged when he shoulda jagged."
I went back to the office and wrote my story. It lacked color, it lacked feeling, it lacked compassion. "Lord cure my writing." (45)
Katrina continues, even today. When it rains the streets flood. Of course the streets have always flooded. I pray that my little car can ford the puddles. "I'm selfish Lord, too many in my city have no shelter from the rain. Forgive me Lord." (44)
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