Fervently. And on bended knee. Not daily, but often enough, and in her moments of weakness, she glimpses down, inhales sharply and forces out flustered words mumbled under breath, beseeching some unseen god for some unheard of strength.
Other than that, she’s American in every way. Irreverent and sacrilegious, and stumbling down streets in too high heels and too short skirts. Playing the part of an every day sinner, cast clumsily in the role of a mundane woman, failing in little ways but trying just a little to be better than the day before. Given to the usual flashes of anger and bouts of depression, laced with hedonistic pleasure seeking, but, then, when no one else is looking, she prays.