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Friday night. The church is dark. Empty. All dust and dry silence. Two boys hide among the left-behind lint of good choir men and women. Nose to carpet in the strange downpour of scents. Ears open for the pig squeal of a white plastic grocery sack.
By C.K. Turner5
2121 ratings
Friday night. The church is dark. Empty. All dust and dry silence. Two boys hide among the left-behind lint of good choir men and women. Nose to carpet in the strange downpour of scents. Ears open for the pig squeal of a white plastic grocery sack.