Henry’s truck through up thick plumes of dust, and he as past the craw fish pools a great heron flew over head. Its wings looked heavy, but the heron flew with such a grace, that for a moment, Henry felt hope.

He came to Mercy, though he thought this time, she may not do him any good.

Mercy was sitting on the porch when he pulled up. Henry cut the engine, climbed out of his muddy truck and staggered over to the house. He took a seat on the second stair, he didn’t look at Mercy and he didn’t speak. He sat, watching the sky, looking for his sign of hope.

Mercy stood up from her rocker, poured tea into the second cup which was sitting on the rail, and carried it down the stairs. She sat one stair above Henry and placed the tea beside him. She rested her hand on his shoulder and looked up.

“Breathe.â€? She whispered. “Breathe.â€?