He crossed over to the next aisle, the voice now clearer and the lyrics decipherable. Sunday is gloomy, my hours are slumberless, Dearest the shadows ... live with are numberless. Her voice was wrought with emotion, a sob just at the edge as she continued. Little white flowers will never awaken you Not where the black coach of sorrow has taken you Angels have no thoughts of ever returning you Wouldn’t they be angry if I thought of joining you? Gloomy Sunday His gut tightened as the dark words. ” “Your mission?” He nodded. “When we finish high school, we spend a year on mission with the church. Traveling to a different part of the world and telling people about the church.” “I see.” I looked from Hunter to Brad. He was still struggling to keep his eyes from my chest. They were well kept, clean living boys; I could imagine my own daughters falling for them. But here they were with me, alone in the house, with Oscar at work, and my daughters at school. My heart was going pitter pat in. More

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