Roxanne

The worn leather cover of the Holy Bible felt cool beneath my thumb as I stared at Roxanna. She’d just gifted it to me, a room-warming present.
“Are you trying to convert me?” I asked, a smile playing on my lips. It was an old joke between us.
“You don’t believe in God, Darien?” Her eyes, bright and curious, searched mine.
I shrugged, the familiar twist of déjà vu stirring in my gut. “I don’t know. I find it hard to believe in what I can’t see.” I looked around the room, at the walls she was painting red, at the few possessions that were now truly mine thanks to her and her family. “Miracles sound great, but if God exists, then why hasn’t He helped those in need?”
Roxanna smiled, her fingers tracing my cheek. “And how do you know for sure that He hasn’t?”