Chapter Thirty-Four
I can’t get out of the monastery fast enough, half-running through the central hallway to the front door and pushing through that as if I were running out of air.
I am. I am running out. I’m choking on my own pain, my own bittersweet regrets. And I can’t even summon the strength to listen to the singing and praying echoing from inside; I hurl myself down the stairs and onto the old, broken sidewalk, willing the city noise of traffic and wind to drown out the melody of Zenny’s marriage to Christ.
Why did you do this to me? I demand of God. What possible reason could there be for this?
There’s no answer, and of course there’s not. If there’s anything I’ve learned during my detente with God this week it’s that He very rarely answers fussy prayers right away.
Alth
