Prompt: Use all these words in a story or poem: preacher, coin, stairwell, comb.
She pressed her fingers against the sharp teeth of the comb in her coat pocket; it pinched the cold-numb skin, hurting more than the nervous motion usually did. The stairwell echoed with the noise of her footsteps. She looked down at the paper in her hands again. Preacher Gorse, eleven o’clock.
Her chest hurt. She wasn’t sure what the father wanted, but it probably had something to do with her mother. And her mother being dead.
She sighed, looking down at the paper again, double checking what she had already triple checked. A few stairs above her, she saw a penny, face up. The coin was shiny, like a little piece of a sunbeam lying on the ground.