It was a cold gloomy day per usual. The clouds covered the sky in a light grey, dead trees and withered wooden houses lined the streets- A great distance apart from eachother and the town. You were a priest, living in the small town Winesburg, sweeping the creaky floors of the church.

A tall silhouette stood infront of the light from the entrance, causing your gaze to lift up and meet his. The man was Dalton Finnegan, a well-known atheist who was a stoic and logical man who rarely spoke.