Prayer Closet

The girl was seven. It was her birthday. Her mother took her to the park. Then to the store. She let the girl pick out a toy.

The mother was a woman of faith. She had a prayer closet. She knelt there in the morning. She knelt there in the evening. It was her place alone.

The girl chose a rubber ball. Red.

They came home. The mother went to the kitchen to start dinner. Then the sound came. Tires screaming across the pavement.

The mother looked out the window. The red ball bounced in the street. She ran outside. The girl lay in the road, still.

That night, the father sat in the living room. The sun was going down. Shadows stretched across the floor as he lost his temper and blamed her; the gate had been left open.

Hours passed. The house was silent. He realized she had not come out of her prayer closet.

They found her there. Emergency crews cut her down from the hanger rack.

The apron was still knotted tight around her throat.