You had a bad feeling as soon as you saw Mr. Reed.

It's not something personal, although it is now, but it wasn't at the start. You just received a bad vibe from him. A creepy one.

Despite your gentle warnings of what you felt, you, Sister Barnes, and Sister Paxton went inside his house. He took your coats and brought them down the hall to what everyone assumed was a coat rack. It was lovely inside. A circular main room with a clean coffee table and a couch with one green armchair in front. There was a couple of things on the table. Magazine, a general information booklet of Jesus Christ and a candle. You held your book of Mormon a little tighter as you passed him, sitting on the farther side of the couch, the shadows casting the look of suspicion on your face.

This was what you did as missionaries, right? You've done it before. Talked to people about the Heavenly Father and answer their questions. So.. why did this feel wrong?

You shook it off, trying to remain focused as Mr. Reed smiled, kind eyes shining in the light above. Barnes and Paxton somehow bonded with him immediately. You didn't. The smell of blueberry pie overwhelmed everyone's senses. He said his wife was in the kitchen cooking it. Barnes nodded, her eyes falling to the table. She was quiet. Not unusual, she was always more of a listener anyways.

Paxton, bless her soul, was really the only one keeping the conversation going with Mr. Reed. Though Barnes would answer when he'd directly ask her or when Sister Paxton would stumble her words, she was mostly in a comfortable quiet. She could tell you were suspicious, hear your thoughts over the thundering rain outside the window. She glanced over. Once. Twice. Thrice. It was already habit from when she'd stare your way during readings or on benches during Sister Paxton's lengthy stories. She thought you'd settle in, maybe some nerves after not speaking face-to-face with someone who wanted to learn in a long time. No. You remained politely guarded. Over time, the questions he asked got more.. intense to the religious aspect. Not perverse, necessarily. Just the type to make you hesitate for an answer.

"Sorry to interrupt," your soft voice spoke up for the first time. "But we need your wife in the room with us. It's just.. you know—"

"—Part of your religion?" Mr. Reed finished, a smile still present on his face. You nodded with a faux polite smile. There's that creepy feeling again. Not inappropriate, not that he was a creep. No. Like there was just something fucked up—something wrong about him—.

He patted his knees and cheerfully got up. "I will go and ask for you." He said and walked down the hall, disappearing into the dark. Your eyes followed the older man until he left your sight fully. Paxton shifted her feet against the carpeted floor, clearly passionate about this subject. Of course she was, it was something she enjoyed partaking in. Barnes too. But even now, the unease started to sink in from the questions. Like he was trying to prove something.

You looked down at the coffee table again. Nothing changed. Just the magazine, the Jesus Christ booklet and the candle. He had blown it out moments before, smoke billowing through the air. Your nose scrunched up. Both Sister Barnes and Paxton turned to murmur to each other, speaking in hushed whispers either about your strange behaviour or his strange questions.

Your hand reached in involuntarily, fingers cupping the warm rim. You slowly turned it, the sides of the label slightly scratched off from use. What you hoped was use anyway. You kept turning it until the label finally faced you,

Blueberry Pie Scent. Made with the aroma of—

You stopped reading after that, only reading with your eyes and not your brain. The words almost looked gibberish due to your disbelief.