Evan left the hospital around midnight. Her eyes hadn’t opened, not even for a blink. He didn’t want to sleep in that chair again, and holding onto that ripening sweatshirt was downright depressing.
He’d cried when he’d pleaded with her. Now the well was dry. He’d managed to sleep last night, but the exhaustion was wearing him down emotionally, then physically.
He had to force his eyes open as he drove home, and he knew he was in danger of blacking out. The night was moonless, and the highway home was pitch black.
The Dark Night of the Soul. What more can I do? How many times do I have to ask? I keep telling my little flock they already have the answer before they ask. But if I truly believed, I wouldn’t need to ask. Please! Please! Show me the way out of here!
The Dark Night of the So
