Whispered Prayers

by Alex Grayson

“What are your kids’ names?” Handing me a glass, she takes the cups over to the bar and sets them down beside the bowls. “Daniel and Kelsey.” She calls the kids, and the boy, Daniel, rushes and takes his seat, wasting no time in digging in to his food. Kelsey comes at a more sedate pace. I watch with interest as she sets the book down on the bar—I can now see it’s a crossword puzzle book—sits on the stool, and starts eating. Her eyes don’t show any emotion at all as she stares down at her food, just disinterest. This girl is holding something deep inside her, it’s there in her eyes. I just don’t know what it is. I lean back against the counter across from them as Gwen picks up her own bowl and starts eating. Minutes later, the stove’s timer goes off and she sets her bowl down to take a tray of cookies out of the oven. The smell is stronger once they’re sitting on the stove, and although I’m currently eating, my stomach still rumbles. I haven’t had homemade cookies in years, and these look and smell really fucking good. “Hey, mister,” Daniel says, and I turn my head to regard him. “What’s your dog’s name?” “Gigi.” “What kind of dog is she?” I lay my empty bowl in the sink, then turn back around. “She’s a Lab mix.” “What does a Lab mix mean?” He scoops up some soup and puts the spoon to his mouth. “It means part of her breed is Labrador.” “What other part is she?” This kid is just full of questions. I look over at Gwen, who’s taking the cookies off the cookie sheet and setti...