By Nicole D. Miller

Stories for the (Urban) Soul

A Compilation of Short Stories, Novellas & Poetry

“I wasn’t raised in a faith,” Lisa shared. “My parents felt that people who leaned on spirituality were weak. Growing up, it was about working hard and doing it yourself.”

“Ah, I see. And how did that work for them?” Sylvia asked. Her thick curls peppered with grey were shimmering in the light of the room, and to Lisa —if such a thing existed— she looked like an angel.  

“Well, probably not good,” Lisa said, thinking about it. “They ended up divorced when I was 12. My mom took up drinking and I hardly saw my father. He started a new life with a new family.” Lisa’s heart tugged at the memories. She hadn’t really shared that with anyone here in New York, other than Michael.  

“I’m sorry to hear that honey. We all face loss and hard things in this world. Christ has not been a crutch for me, but instead a strong arm to fight with.”  

I sure could use some strength, Lisa thought.