"Do not think God will intervene on your behalf," I say. A snarl. "He might not like me per se, but I have noticed He stays out of my way. God is in all things but not this street alley. Not tonight."
He starts crying again, his shame surfacing. Our every word a cloud of ice dying in the freezing, rank air. Every one of those clouds containing secrets.
Read more of Derek Kelly's gritty, uncompromising story here.
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