Words
The old man sat in his room and watched his world through jail doors...
"Lord have mercy. Christ have mercy. Mary Mother of Grace, Mary Mother of Mercy, St. Michael, pray for me..."
...through tired eyes. Forgotten and alone. Tears dryed. Alone.
"...my good Angel pray for me. Holy Mary pray for me, St. Joseph, pray for me..."
The cold chill of death so subversive. No place to go except the safety of words. Litany.
If he could believe them.
...St. Ambrose pray for me; all ye saints and angels pray for me. St. Michael pray for me, my good angel, pray for me."
The doomed man sat in his room and watched his world through jail doors. Alone.