He reached into his bag and pulled out a worn CD player. He slipped in a disc he’d listened to a thousand times: Spirit of David .
The church was empty, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning and the dust motes dancing in the afternoon light. Marcus felt a desperate need for something—a sign, a word, a reason to keep his head up. Fred Hammond - No Weapon Formed Against Me Shall Prosper
The heavy wooden doors of the sanctuary creaked open, but Marcus didn’t look up. He sat on the front pew, his head buried in his hands. The eviction notice in his pocket felt like it was burning a hole through his jeans. After twelve years of loyal service, the factory had closed, and Marcus felt the walls of his life closing in with it. He reached into his bag and pulled out a worn CD player
He stood up, his boots echoing on the floor. He started to pace. By the time the song reached its climactic chant— “It won’t work!” —Marcus was shouting it back. Marcus felt a desperate need for something—a sign,