Son of Dada…Text testttt

Never subtle, old Mark. "What?" I said. Mark said, "Lucien's lost." Lucien. Fra Benedict guessed right. I was the only one.

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Posted by Burndtree at 7:51 am

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It cost me nothing to take it. Priest and stranger being eyeballed. He hid us in his private office, the confessional.

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Posted by Burndtree at 7:38 am

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Matins. St.Jude's filling up. Candlesmoke. Kneeling murmurers. Mark looked old. Offered his old hand.

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Posted by Burndtree at 1:15 am

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Fra Benedict. I'd have hung up, except for that. Mark said, "There are paper details. Perhaps we'll do tea, after matins."

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Posted by Burndtree at 1:06 am

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"Daniel. Mark. Fra Benedict said you're the one t'call, if we need one in your line of work."

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Posted by Burndtree at 12:59 am

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Da's world called, as if I belonged there, still. And was theirs to call. There, for the using. Fallen son of a fallen priest.

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Posted by Burndtree at 12:50 am