Page 205 - The Houseguest

surrounding her, listening to the sounds of the birds and the children playing. How she longed to have her brother walking beside her, feeling the freedom she was experiencing. She rounded the corner leading to the mailbox hut to retrieve her mail.
She grabbed a stack of white envelopes, no doubt bills and typical sales flyers. Carrying the stack toward her apartment, she realized the walk didn’t alleviate her sadness as she’d hoped. She threw the pile of letters onto the counter and poured another cup of coffee. As she turned back, she noticed one of the strewn envelopes had been separated from the pile. She pulled up a chair as she read the name on the return address: Lance Powell Richards, III.
Her heart started beating wildly. Why in the world would this man be writing to her? That familiar mistrust began to rise up inside of her and the hatred starting to build. She repeated today’s lesson aloud as she tore open the envelope: “Love your enemies. Pray for them. Love your enemies. Pray for them. Love your enemies. Pray for them.” Her hands trembled so much, the paper shook as she began reading the letter:
Ms. Gabel,
I am sure you are wondering why you are receiving this letter from me. You do not know me personally, nor I you. But I know who you are, and I am certain you know about me. I’ve overheard your brother speak
205
The Houseguest by Linda Ellis www.LindaEllis.life