Whispered Prayers

by Alex Grayson

I push some eggs around in my syrup before I look over at him. “I really am sorry you’re stuck with us. I’m sure you don’t care to have strangers invading your house.” He gives me a look that tells me he’s tired of hearing me give my thanks, so I clamp my mouth shut. That is, until the quiet grates on my nerves again. “You said you’ve lived here your whole life. Does that mean you grew up in this house?” He sets his plate down on the coffee table in front of him. “No. My parents had a house in town. This was my grandparents’ place.” “Oh.” I put my plate beside his and turn in my seat, bring one foot up and tucking it under me. “Do your parents still live in town?” “They moved to Tennessee a few years ago.” He doesn’t seem too bothered by my questions, so I continue. “Do you have any siblings?” “Just my sister.” I run my fingers along the smoothness of the couch. I hate to have idle hands. I constantly have to be doing something with them. My poor cuticles look terrible and would probably give a manicurist a heart attack. “What kind of work do you do?” His brows drop as he moves his eyes from me to the TV. “Why all the questions?” he asks. Embarrassment has my cheeks turning pink, and I turn so I’m facing forward again. “Sorry,” I say softly. “I just figured since we might be stuck together for a few days, we may as well get to know each other a bit so we’re not complete strangers.” I get up from the couch and pick up my plate. I guess my line of questioning is over. I unde...