He handed me a book. I looked down.
The word “Prayer” stamped on the hard cover.
Sounds like a good one, I thought.
He turned and moseyed back to his recliner in the living room.
I traced the letters with my fingers. The book felt so new and so old, at the same time.
Little did I know he had never used it.
Little did I know just how much I’d need it.
Omer Redden 