Walking through the park on the perfect, gray skied day is just what a girl needs to make her day worse, after being tutored for the first time in my life by a freaking forty year old. I walk onto the grass, and see J.J. at the park, sitting solemnly on a swing, just sitting, and looking down at the ground, I walk further, and she gets up, and starts walking. I try to talk, to yell at her, and my mouth opens, but no sound comes out. All I can do is follow her, and I do, but not to where I thought it would.
Blessed be God in His Angels and in His Saints.
Everything gets darker, and walls form around me and I turn around to see Dustin lying in a chair, laying back as his father, Eric inks him. Eric is the same height as Dustin, only bigger in size with a dark beard.
Oh Holy St. Anthony, gentlest of Saints, your love for God and Charity for His creatures made you worthy.
I walk around him, and notice his Pink Floyd shirt. Kudos to Eric as he inks. I look down at his hands and see blood trickling down Dustin’s back, and I open my mouth to scream, and for once, I make noise.
Miracles waited on your word, which you were ever ready to speak for those in trouble or anxiety.
The blood trickles down his shoulder, writing words on his chest, like the word FATHER, and underneath, BROTHER. Like it’s all we ever stand for.