Friday. Knocking on the heavy wooden door. No one is answering. Martha says something about the Disciples still being in Jerusalem and now we can see her walking away, sadly looking over her shoulder. The table is still turned over. The pillows are still in disarray. A smear of dried liquid is on the wall. [...]
Wednesday. Thomas is at the door, basket in hand waving at Martha who is going back to the main house. The sun is high in the noon sky. He carries the basket back to the table and sits down, heavily sinking into the pillow around it. He takes a big whiff, smiles absentmindedly and opens [...]
Monday. Thomas is standing at the window, a rooster crowing in the nearby distance. The sky still has the final purple remnants of night that it stubbornly clings to in the face of the overpowering dawn. A cup of goats milk sits forgotten on the table. A basin of water sits unused by the door. [...]
Thomas’ Lonely Week: Friday