Sheila Rambles

“Hope?” she said.  Her lips stretched into a mirthless approximation of a smile.  “Hope requires faith, faith requires trust, trust requires courage, courage requires strength and strength inevitably requires replenishment.  I have lived in deprivation for so long that there is no strength left in me and no source of replenishment.  Therefore I have no strength to have courage, no courage to have trust, no trust to have faith and no faith to have hope.  Keep your pretty words and empty promises.  Give me something to eat and a safe place to sleep and then you can speak of hope.”

She took in a mouthful of the wine and held it on her tongue.  The dark and wooden flavors bit in along with a faint undercurrent of sweetness.  She faked a swallow and kept her eyes on his mouth.  A twitch of a smile flickered before it was suppressed. She let the glass slip from her hand and spat the wine out as she crouched down to retrieve it. “I’m so sorry,” she said, “So very sorry.” She put her hands around the largest shard she could find and when he bent down over her, she went for the throat.