and let us reason together, saith the Lord:
though your sins be as scarlet,
And a story snapshot:
Janine dusted the snow from the iron patio chair and took a seat on the very edge to peer upward into her son's face. Something was wrong. She knew it, just as she knew how the house keys had been misplaced. The weekday rush caught her out this morning. Her keys perched inside, on the hook by the back door, and she was locked outside with her almost-a-man son. His brother would be home soon, with keys, and they would all troop inside—the opportunity for conversation lost. Focusing her gaze on his face, the set of his brow, and the cast of his mouth, Janine determined to do her best to invite his confidence. "I think something's bothering you. Would you like to talk about it...?"