Sales Pitch

One of Rev Bradley’s daughters had come; not Faith, not Charity, but Hope.

Maisie was on the back patio when her mother announced her, and let her out the glass sliding door.

Hope come on meek, with a Styrofoam container holding Giovanni’s cheesecake, Maisie’s favorite treat.

Maisie smiled, unsure and mixed feelings, seeing her earliest childhood friend, after they’d grown distant.

Hope sat down, gave Maisie the cheesecake, and Maisie started to eat as Hope gave her the sales pitch that had been her real reason for coming.

Maisie needed to pray and trust God. Needed to be more open. Needed to believe in light.

Maisie ate her cake, stared out into the little patch of woods, thought of the isolation of her worst and bleakest days when no light came near, the prayers that never escaped her skull, all the evil god constantly rewarded.

Maisie thanked Hope for coming and for the treat, hoping this was the end of the sales pitch. Hope knelt beside Maisie and gave her a big hug. But it was guile. Christians always had an angle.

Hope left, and in Maisie’s memory she saw the little girls they’d been, and how close they once were. But people change and go their own ways.

The was hers alone, the madness her demon to fight, and no platitudes or magical thinking were weapons against it.

It was a hot summer day, and Maisie took joy in it.

 

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