Rev. Jackdaw shivered on the cold street corner, pacing back and forth for warmth. He held his slate high, the word “REPENT” fading in the wet, falling snow. No use pulling out his stub of chalk to write the word again. His overturned hat sat on the sidewalk close to his feet and served as a bucket for donations. His thin hair hung limp and dripped onto his brow. His eye slept quiet as a baby. This was the Lord’s work; the cold was a privilege. God allowed those who would be great to be tested. Just as He’d allowed Job to be tested.
Half a block away, Storz Brewery stood six hundred feet tall. All fifteen buildings, the paper reported, had red tiled floors, stainless steel and copper fixtures. With that edifice to the devil in the background, the corner was normally profitable. A woman hu
