“Lazarus is not available right now. I’m sorry, but he’s not seeing anyone.”
Lazarus opened his eyes to the black void of his room. He silently listened to his mother at the front door, her voice muffled by the wall between them. He could hear the soft protest of the stranger, begging to see Lazarus. To just look upon him for a moment and receive a blessing. To touch the hem of his garment.
Martha smiled and looked over to Abel in the passenger seat as she maneuvered her car through the heavy traffic over to the far left lane. Abel gazed at her from over his Dr. Seuss book and smiled back. Martha loved driving with Abel.
Geoffrey couldn’t sleep again. The more he tried, the more sleep escaped him. He tossed himself over and kicked the warm, steamy sheets to the end of his bed, lifted himself up onto his elbows and stared for the tenth time out the open bedroom window into the darkness of the back yard. Through the window, Geoffrey listened with dread to the crickets chirp chirping incessantly like distant car alarms.