The city disgusts me.
The scent of the polluted sea. Exhaust from a passing bus. The breath of people who spill their putrid thoughts into the vile air. The city is a cesspool of decay.
Now the men of Sodom were wicked exceedingly and sinners against the Lord.
I swallow the distaste for this environment that has engulfed me for the past week. My gaze drifts from one end of the street to the other, but it always returns to the door across the street and the curve of gold letters on the glass.
My watch alarm beeps. Twelve noon.
Lord, I ask for your blessings to be poured out onto me, your humble servant. Lift my hand against my adversaries. Send back upon them every wrongdoing and injustice they have loosed upon me, your faithful disciple.
Amen.
I open my eyes and resume my vigil from the cafe patio. My tea has cooled, the book splayed before me remains unread. My fingers tap in time to the music that echoes in my head. A hymn, one my mother used to sing.
Let sinners take their course,
And choose the road to death
The door opens across the street. A tall man with an athletic build holds it open for a woman with raven hair. Her gaze flicks to her surroundings. ‘The Killers,’ her black t-shirt says.
My blood heats.
But I, with all my cares,
Will lean upon the Lord;
I’ll cast my burdens on his arm,
And rest upon his word
As they step onto the sidewalk, the couple turns to speak with another man who lingers behind on the threshold of the door. Black tattoos cover his hands and his muscled arms. He’s not as tall as the first man but more powerful in build. The protector. The fighter. I can tell—the way he stands, the way he grins, the coiled readiness in every move. A snake, always ready to strike.
They exchange words I can’t hear, smiles I can’t feel. The second man clamps his hand over the shoulder of the first. Their foreheads press together before they separate. The first man then walks away hand-in-hand with the woman. He places a kiss to her temple and she grins. I watch them stroll down the street and turn the corner. For a long moment, my gaze remains there, trapped on their absence as though I haunt their footsteps, a ghost lurking in their shadows.
I settle deeper into my chair. I refocus my attention where it needs to be.
On Kane Atelier.
I seek His blessing every noon,
And pay my vows at night.
Rowan Kane took my brother.
And I vow to take his.
