Leaving his parents chatting, Anton entered the church. There were only a few old men and old women sitting in the church pews with their backs to him–judging by the hats, mostly old women.

The whole church was flooded with the yellowish light of the lamps hanging along the walls. Between the rows was a red carpet with a geometric pattern leading to the altar, a stone stand with flowers. Towering over all this was a huge wooden crucifix with the figure of Christ, executed in a modernist manner. The expression on Jesus' face could have been mistaken for a sneer.

He looked at Jesus for a couple of seconds, grinned at the figure in response, and sat down in the last row, near the exit and closer to the font. He knew that his parents would sit in the front rows, closer to the priest.

"Be blessed," "Let's rejoice," "Joy of the Lord" – so why is everyone sitting there looking like they're watching the evening match between Bulgaria and Romania? Yes, because for them it's an empty sound – everything they read and sing about here. And for the priest, it seems, too. He mumbles to himself, earns his salary.

At least the sermon had begun. And when all this boredom began, he stared absently at the wall behind the priest's back.

"Amen..." he repeated along with everyone, and only now noticed that he was not sitting alone on the bench. The guy turned around at the sound of the voice.