Marc shifted his weight in his cot. He had been awake since 4am, now the first sign of light. Was trickling through the stain glass windows. He for the past 6 months felt good when he woke up, like he was part of these walls. He cleaned the glass, he took care of almost every part of the church. He was happy with his place in these walls. But today he was scared, too scared to look at his phone, and too scared to get up. Something had been broken, he couldn't hide out for ever.
Who did these people even think he was? Some drug addict, some homeless guy, were they being nice because he was Marc, or because something else.
He felt now more than ever a pull to
Westcity
, but first he needed answers and
Gas City
was the only place he could get those.
Today the church had one event. Late, a practice recital for a local band. This was usually Marcs favorite day because he could sleep in, and be alone in high ceiling. But he couldn't stay in bed. He had to leave, he had to get answers. He had to get up at least. He started pacing, and planning. He had to go.
