Miles and Jules walked along the hallway together inside the hospital. He held her backpack for her, as usual.
"I could get used to this," Jules muttered to herself.
"Hmm? I didn't catch what you said."
"Oh," Jules blushed, realizing she had said that out loud. "I was just saying I'm not sure if I'll ever get used to this." She looked down at her feet.
Miles hit the elevator button. "I hope you won't have to get used to it. You'll be taking him home before you know it."
"On boy." Jules smacked her forehead.

How do you relate faith and reason?

Modern Americans often presume that faith and reason belong in completely separate worlds – one public, one private. Even religious people can divide their lives into boxes – faith on Sundays, reason the rest of the week.

Others scoff at faith, insisting, “Unless I can see it, feel it, observe it with my senses, I don’t accept it as true.” (But seriously, who talks like that anymore? We see something on Twitter and discuss it like we’re witnesses to the act.)

Legion of Honor
It's wrapped in coastal winds and cypress trees,
  With lions guarding entrance to the court.
  Inside, they serve up tea and apricot tarts,
Between glass clad in mist from neighboring seas.
Degas' love of Parisian millinery
  Ripples among the walls of light and dark:
  Illuminated portraits, girls in sharp
Well-flowered, feathered hats in velvet sheen.
Around the corner, see a more ancient hall:
  An ibis-headed man in frozen gait,
Cartouche and hieroglyphics on a wall,

I’m an introvert.
I get peopled out.
I need time to recharge.

I’m naturally shy.
I don’t like talking to
people I
don’t know.
I hate it when they
don’t say
anything—
it forces me to talk.

I’m prideful.
I want to be the best.
I want to excel
at whatever I do.
I want people’s good opinion.
So I hide the real me.

Jules stirred from her sleep and turned onto her opposite side. She moaned a little and reached up to rub her neck. Sunlight was streaming thickly through her curtained windows, causing her to blink and squint. What time was it? She sat up and twisted around to see her clock. "10:30? Oh my. I haven't slept in that late in ages."
She rolled out of bed and lazily pulled her slippers on. Her filmy robe blew behind her while she trailed slowly downstairs to the kitchen.

Fog had hid the highest cliff-tops,
Made a secret of the mountains,
Fold on fold the white fleece mantle
Made a cloak for giant’s shoulders.

All alone the Romsdal rider
Rode up to the fear-dark forest —
There before her open death-door
Thorstein stopped his horse to tether.

Thorstein hoped that luck would love him
As he stepped into the darkness,
For he thought a hive of killers
Must be waiting in the forest.

you said
I believe in rainy days
saturn's rays
and mazes that take a heartbreak
to get through

I said
that's untrue
I've seen you
pledging, openly loving
or was it
lovingly open?

either/or, you replied your hand
a white-slab slice through
our galaxy,
either way, you drew
division in a million ways, you knew
religion
for another
and I didn't

I look out around me,
I see the pain, the suffering,
The hurt, the jealousy.
This world is stuck, wondering
whether there’s anything left.
The world’s philosophy
is mixed up with the rest
of everything else,
withered in conceit
and trying to cheat
the world away.
When I ask why, they tell me,
“Some things are just meant to be.”

Miles pulled out onto the highway. "So," he cleared his throat. "Do you feel up to chatting a little bit? I'm used to talking to Gramps while I drive, and it would help me stay alert if you don't mind."
"Sure," Jules said. "I don't mind at all." She slipped her converse off and pulled her feet up into her seat and hugged her knees against herself.
Miles smiled, his eyes warming into soft creases at each corner. "What are some of your hobbies?"
"I like to paint, draw, read, and listen to music. And take long walks. What about you?"
"Wait, you paint?"

Jules drove back to her house after the fellowship meal had ended. She packed fairly quickly, but felt listless and too tired to make the drive just yet. The half-empty container of jellybeans was calling to her from the kitchen pantry. She decided to fill a smaller container with them and put it in her bag.