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The priest sat outside the bar. For some reason, the smell of smoke, alchohol and vomit wasn’t pleasing to his nose. He moved shoulder length black hair out of his face and opened his Bible, beginning where else but at the beginning…

He noticed there was a young girl sitting across from him. Blue eyes full of life were watching him read. He looked up.

“May I help you?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. She smiled at him, looking at his collar. The eleven year old’s smile made him uncomfortable. It made him feel as if he were younger than her, less experienced in birth, death, and that pesky thing between the two.

“Only if you feel like talking,” she responded. She looked and sounded so young… how could just the smile convince him otherwise? He tried futilly to return the experienced smile. The crickets seemed to sing about how bad he failed.

“Of course. Are you seeking religious guidance?”

“No more than you are.” That smile almost infuriated him.

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