Prescited
It wasn’t her, that picture he kept taped to the grey wall
of his cell. But it was how he pictured she’d be if she was still alive, if, in
his drunken stupor that night, he’d left her alive.
“Father, I learned a new word yesterday.”
The priest paused his recitation of last rites. “Did you?”
“Prescited – do you know what it means?”
“I do.”
“That’s me.”
“Physically, yes. But God’s forgiveness waits for you after
this life, if you’ll take it.”
He didn’t answer. God’s forgiveness he understood. It was hers
he’d never get.
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I didn't actually get to enter this into the contest but I'm sharing it anyway. Every writing exercise has value.
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