Still His Hephzibah
Evelyn adjusted her head on the pillow so she could feel the tears run down the sides of her face, her eyes stayed on the white ceiling. Her worn-out body lay on the bed as though detached from her spirit, a corpse propped up in bed. Some days, she could tell she wasn’t yet dead because the walls of her room had not transformed into a mansion of gold, transparent as glass. This wasn’t the…