[ There's a note slipped under God's door, at some point during the summer. Plain bone-white vellum envelope, unmarked, unaddressed, unsealed — a single page inside. ]
I am just a human trying to avoid my certain doom. You are my sanctuary. You're holy to me. And if I repent— if I get on my knees— Will you finally tell me the truth?
[ (It isn't signed — but it's not like it needs to be, now, is it?) ]
no subject
I am just a human trying to avoid my certain doom.
You are my sanctuary. You're holy to me.
And if I repent— if I get on my knees—
Will you finally tell me the truth?
[ (It isn't signed — but it's not like it needs to be, now, is it?) ]