After a rash of racially motivated mass shootings, Zahra finds herself in the company of a group that has decided that hopes and prayers aren’t good enough. Take One of Mine is the recipient of the "Award of Excellence" from Romance in Color *** Excerpt *** She paused to try to get her breathing under control. There was nothing she could do about her tears. “Granny was 82 years old,” she bawled. “I knew that one day I would be standing here, speaking at her funeral, but she was so strong. I didn’t think it would be no time soon. I sh – I shouldn’t be standing here today. What that man did to my granny ain’t right. He didn’t have no right to do her like that – none of them people. Everyone in that store was innocent.” Her grimace was gut-wrenching. She felt the pastor’s hand on her shoulder again. “It’s alright,” the man told her. “That’s alright…” Zahra’s breaths were audible. She squeezed her eyes closed. The tears streamed down her cheeks. She told the crowd, “I will never understand how somebody can hurt somebody who never did anything to them. I don’t understand why so many people in this country hate us. After all y’all did to us, all these years. All we ever did was be born. How can y’all hate us for that?” Zahra sensed she was getting away from the purpose of the eulogy, but since her grandmother’s death, she had quickly progressed through two stages of grief (denial and bargaining). She wasn’t aware that she had transitioned to anger until that very moment. “I’m sick of everybody on TV offering their thoughts and prayers,” she announced gruffly. The bitterness in her heart strengthened her voice, if not her resolve. “This ain’t the first time some white man opened fire on us, like we targets at the gun range. My granny deserves more than your thoughts and prayers. Somebody needs to do something about this. If y’all care about us, like y’all keep saying y’all do, then y’all need to do something to make them stop killing us! I’m sick of it!” She was so angry, her whole body was trembling. She realized the pastor’s hand was not just resting on her shoulder now. He was tenderly pulling her away from the mic.