She sits in the waiting room, hands resting in her lap in supplication. There is nothing else she can do. She is past sorting through the jumble in her purse for old tissues and bits of candy wrapper to throw out. She is done reading magazines with pretty pictures that bear no resemblance to her life. She is angry with herself because she is not more patient and understanding. But if the doctors know anything beyond what they already told her, they remain silent. So she sits in an uncomfortable chair in the hospital waiting room and does the only thing she can think of doing that makes even a little bit of sense. She prays.
Praying – Fragment #47