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Perfect StrangersIt's been awhile since I have attended my church. Chaos. Drama. Church politics. They kept me away because instead of hearing the message all I saw was the duality of the members and the Pastor. I sit quietly in the last pew in the back corner secluded and hidden from the members always invisible to everyone... but you.
I find myself as an outcast of the church. Since I began attending no one spoke to me, welcomed me or even in general took notice. I attended for 2 years and no one would miss me on the rare occasion that I might miss a Sunday. I tried to become involved but found myself not only outside but despised.
But you. You are the exception to this church and their unwritten rules. You have never spoken a word to me but you welcomed me with a smile and a wave. You always come alone and we always seem to race for that one seat. Yet we both sit on the back row.
Was that an extra light in your eyes when you saw me this morning? I have been away from the church for months
LatreuophobiaI wash off sick-sweet orange lipstick in front of a mirror as dusty as gothic romances. It tastes like oblivion, that is to say, like nothing my tongue can detect.
The door opens with a creak no private restroom could emulate. Some chick with blue bobbed hair and smeared eyeliner. I looked like that once. Ten years ago.
Getting the beer out of my hair is harder. Some men just can't take it when I'd rather they not kiss my feet or call me an angel or-
“Dayum girl, you look like a goddess.”
I gulp, taste of acid.
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