The tattered remains of his soul was limp within him. No longer was it useful, no longer could it have any purpose or provide any counsel. It was done with, it was destroyed. The effects of the previous months had shattered him from the inside. Though his body was not harmed, and indeed he may have yet before him a fruitful existence, the soul that provides true essence was lost, it was gone. And it was the very doctors of the soul which had succeeded in finally ridding it in this man.
He had approached his first taste of church with some caution. It was not really his first time, but it was the first visit in so long that he thought of it as his first. He had been a part of all the celebrations, and meetings, and events when he was a child, when his mother and father took him along with them as they sought answers to their own profound unanswerable issues. The memories of the older women in their Sunday dresses and large hats fawning over him, being included at times in the conversations of the older men, making him feel grown up, still filled him with a vague warm glow.
He sang all the songs, even won some prizes for being the best at memorizing some Scripture passages. “So God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son,†he still could say. He knew the basics, said The Prayer, but when his parents left when he was 12 he left with them. The questions in their soul went apparently unanswered, as their divorce soon after seemed to indicate. There was no question about his going back once he hit high school. The Christians, everyone called them, were a rather sanctimonious bunch in general, and their parties were simply terrible. More of the exact same stuff he did as an 8 year old, except trying to be a little more ‘contemporary’. They sang songs, they gathered around the pole and prayed. There were of course people who weren’t like this, but they were the exception.
So here he was sitting in a church, newly built following a faux Spanish mission look, invited by a friend from work, a cute friend, a friend he would like to get to know more. Her long blonde hair and infectious smile caught him the moment he first saw her, but she had some deep spiritual leanings, which always seemed to get in the way of quick romantic pursuits. If putting on the religious show was something he needed to do to get things moving, then he would play that game as long as needed. The churchly affect was rusty, but recoverable. He sat there in the blue chairs, padded and modular, singing, listening, shaking the hands of those around him. The pews he recalled from when he was young were lost in a more vague business seminar kind of atmosphere. He was also surprised not to see a cross, or any of the other typical accoutrements of the old time religion. Names were exchanged, as were smiles, but he didn’t really remember who anyone was by the time he sat down. There was only one name he cared about, and hers he already knew.
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