Go Back My Child
It’s another cold night, the few candles of the church light barely enough space for him to weave through a maze of pews. Time isn’t consistent here, flashing between what feels oddly familiar to a time far behind him. Inconsistent, jumping back and forth as Father Timothy tries to make it back to the confessional booth. It must’ve been a week since he last opened it or a few months. He’ll figure it out soon enough.

















