Pray for me, was the simplest of requests. A tight hug and a long walk down a wide hallway that funneled the incoming into a flashing metal detector quietly accepting all comers; sans shoes, watches, and key chains. Then a stop; a smile, a wave, then gone, while the last thing he said still hung in the air around her; pray for me. It was all she heard the whole way home. As if she wouldn’t. But there was something in the way he had said it. Implying to her that there was a need for some assurance that only she could give, and that if she could do this one thing for him; it might help. Subtlety noting ever so slightly that if she did not, the fates of darkness might prevail. As if it was all on her shoulders. Pray for me. Why would she not. They had prayed together for years. For each other, for others and even for people they didn’t know. Once when traveling they came upon an accident. Immediately they held hands and they prayed for the victims who appeared to be in need of prayer. They laughed more than once about those who needed to be prayed for in the most dire of circumstances who didn’t get it; that prayer would help their lives. Pray for me. Of course she would. Why did he have to ask that? Why did he have to cast a tone on the good bye that might infer in her that she would not? The small golden urn beside the altar at church was stuffed with notes from people who needed extra prayers. She knew that; so did he. Pray for me. It was almost as if he had thought she might forget him. How could she?