Take Me To Church
He could remember his Fall. A few snide remarks, whispered under breath, a few too many rude gestures, and he was sent, spiraling downwards. He’d always imagined a Fall from Grace to feel the way a child would, falling from their first time on an a big-kid bike. Only there were no scraped knees, in this business. His Father wasn’t going to scoop him up off the pavement, brush the dirt off of his clothes, and tell him that it would be okay; it wouldn’t be okay. Not for a long time.