Reverend Samuel's door opens, he blurs the frame like a too-close photograph. Me and Chay stand silent, waiting to be spoken to.
"You two have evils inside you."
His eyes look us up and down. A line of spittle swings from food on his chin. His fist in his trouser pocket, wriggling like a trapped spider. Crumbs on his stomach. Sweat on his forehead. Smells of cigarette and sweat.
The main entrance doorbell rings and Reverend Samuel's eyes dart left and right.
That doorbell never rings.
He slams his door. Bolts slammed home.
We wait awhile, then walk away.
D.M. almost 5 years ago
He's such a lurking evil.