19
Joan tapped the lined paper with her pencil, how do I begin? She thought. Dear Adam. No, sounds… Adam. The name sounded in her head echoing again and again. Adam. How to explain? Tell him everything… everything. She heard. I cant. It's too complicated. 'I understand things a lot of other people don't understand.' She remembered him saying that, it seemed a long time ago. When she only just got to know him. I understand. The words echoed, louder, and louder until all she could think of were those words. I understand. She stopped. Closed her eyes and put the pen to paper, just as a warm breeze came into her room. Joan turned, sensing another's movement. Joan turned back to the paper in disappointment. God walked up to the other side of Joan's desk, His young hands brushed back His brown hair away from His brown eyes. "Looks like you might need a little inspiration Joan." He said,
"You shouldn't be here. What happens if someone comes in? They'll see you." Joan hissed turning back to the blank paper.
"I come exactly when I mean to Joan."
"Could you stop saying my name with a French roll in your tongue?" Joan asked politely. God smiled,
"Habit." He told her simply. Joan rolled her eyes and scratched the top of her nose for no reason. "You do that a lot you know." Joan looked up,
"What do I do?"
"That thing with your nose." He replied. Joan groaned,
"Look, I'm kinda busy. I'm writing a letter, like you suggested. And unless you're gonna help me. I'd appreciate it if you just let me have a while alone. Can you do that? Appreciate that." God rolled His eyes. Joan frowned.
"Look who's snippy!" He said quietly. And left her room. Joan looked down, then looked up.
"God! God!" she called out of her room. He can't go out this way! She thought. She ran down the stairs and dashed around peeking into the kitchen, living room and out of her door. No trace of God. Joan sighed and returned upstairs.
She sat back at her desk and looked at the piece of paper again. Understand. She saw written on the, before, blank piece of paper. And then underneath it was written in the same rough printed hand writing. Habit. Joan smiled. Thanks God for the inspiration. She said to herself, and to Him.
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