1 Work by cheapmoths

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    “I am not made for you.” His voice trembled, though it must have been near imperceptible. Nobody who did not know him would ever notice; his reputation remained intact, unlike the heart crawling in his throat, racing to clamber out and flee. What an odd sensation it was; Sunday had not been afraid in a long time.

    Or, perhaps, the more accurate thing to say would be that he hadn’t been this afraid in a long time. All that he feared in the past was simply that: matters of the past. They belonged in a place and time that he could not return to, no matter how gravely he dreamt it. But there was nothing past-tense here, presently in this room, where he could see the eyes of God smiling benevolently at him, framed almost neatly around the crown of Boothill’s head.

    “Just…” Sunday cleared his burning throat, humiliated. “Just as you are not made for me.”

    The enormity of his desire disgusts him.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    9,150
    Chapters:
    1/1
    Comments:
    10
    Kudos:
    15
    Bookmarks:
    2
    Hits:
    134

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