“Hey, Mom?” Mark swallowed and checked his face in the bathroom mirror. “Hey, I got detained, but I’m on my way, now.”
She must be in the bathroom because she didn’t pick up her phone. That was okay. He could put off explaining why he had taken so long.
Breathe.
Breathe.Even washing his face hadn’t helped. His face in the mirror teared up again. He couldn’t stop weeping.
He knew something had happened. He knew he was different.
He knew he’d prayed—thanks to Uncle Ted’s letter—but he didn’t understand exactly why he felt this … this …
He started weeping again.
This accepted.
This loved.
This clean.
That.
He slumped to the bathroom floor beside the tub and sobbed.
Again.
The flooring was cold and hard. As he opened his eyes, grit and lint became visible in the corners. He wasn’t
