It’s wrong to look at you the way Dick is. He’s already finished preaching, saying his goodbyes to the other members, but you linger, as you always do.

“You came again,” Dick says. The heat pulling in his chest has to be from the devil himself. You’re beautiful in the dim-lighting of the church. He almost wants to look away. “Didn’t think you’d come back.” He’d prayed you wouldn’t; knows he’s too weak to resist you.

Loving you is his religion. Lord forgive him.