Thirty-Three
Michael leaned against the cell wall, watching the transformation of Clarence as the man lay on the cot. The dark stain on his T-shirt grew and spread as his chest rose and fell with each gulp of breath. Tears tracked down into his hair, his ears. He wiped his face then cupped his hands over it.
Michael tried to remain distant, to not let emotion get in his way, but experiencing this metamorphosis was the best thing he’d seen in all eternity. Well, besides when Father revealed his creation of mankind, or when Yeshua was born into this Earth realm.
And the worst thing he’d seen lately—he bowed his head—was Clarence locked in the cell.
Okay.
Michael breathed in deeply, connecting with Father for strength.
What was happening with Clarence was good, but nothing surpassed whe
