Dear Jesus,
I was too stressed from what happened in church yesterday evening to have written anything in my diary to you. It was so sudden, so unexpected.
So, we went to church as we would have on any other normal day. But upon getting there, we met a little mob in the parking lot. Placards and all.
Shouts and incoherent chants that bordered on them seeking to fish out the 'r****t' and let justice take its course rent the hot evening air.
People have time, like seriously.
Mr Faithful and Mr Bethel were trying to calm them down and talk to them. Pastor Henry too was there, but they were making no headway.
No one had yet noticed our presence cos Dad slowed down and stopped some meters away from the center of the mob.
"Dad, please don't get off the car," I said.
I was seeing the mist
