Of prayer and other Holy things

When does it become braver to stay than to strike out on your own once more? (Written for prompt #225 'Dare' on 100words.dreamwidth.org. As the source suggests, story is exactly 100 words.)

Hope flickers in those expressive eyes.

“Don’t leave,” she whispers.

The request makes him blink, taken aback by how it feels to be hearing that plea for once instead of issuing it. It doesn’t hit quite the way he expected it to. And for the life of him he can’t decide whether that’s a good thing or very, very bad.

When does a prayer give you wings, and when does it snake around your ankle like a chain? (He’s never quite been able to tell the difference, and so shuns them entirely wherever he can.)

Maybe he’s done avoiding.

“Okay.”