He'd said too much already. "My beliefs are none of your concern." He turned and began wandering off into the storm, paused long enough to add: "Goodbye, Mireille. It's been an enlightening experience."
Mireille called after him, was about to follow when a strong squall hit, blasting her with sand. By the time she could see again, there was no sign of him. She could just hear his voice ululating on the wind. A desperate plea, a name. But not hers. "Karen," he kept calling. "Speak to me...."
His voice was drowned by a sudden roar as the wind intensified. She sank to her knees, head down, uttering her own prayer to someone she felt could maybe help her. But she couldn't even recall where the name Richard came from.
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