Ficlets

With an awkward limp and shaking hands, Sister Ileana
walked down the hallway with a red bowl of brown rice in her
hand. Osvaldo tried to help her by grabbing her spongy left
arm, but she swatted at him and insisted that she could walk
by herself, saying something about having learned to walk
95 years ago. He turned back to help, but thought
better of it, running off to help Father Payá’ prepare for mass.

Ileana had always been stubborn. In her 96 year old mind it
was her best quality and the reason why she had given her life to God. Though she was frail and hard of hearing, her sacred heart was strong and full of life. She was determined to help this man conquer his demons as she had helped so many other addicts in Havana. “And this good man is going to be helped!” she said aloud as she prayed, bowing her head and closing her weary eyes.

“He is young and his family deserves more,” she said. Sister Lupe walked past her and smiled, knowing that Lazaro was about to get a serious tongue lashing. She entered