Chris knew it. He couldn't stop himself. It was bound to happen. It was such a struggle to contain himself. He knew he was not worthy to be here.
But why had he made himself come here to the church? Why?
Wasn't this what Bro. Max wanted? Well, he hadn't meant to give him what he wanted, but he just couldn't stay at home, either. Not like he planned. So much quietness that it was deafening. He heard somebody at work say that the less people communicated that the older they got, chances were they'd forget things quickly and just become feeble things, after awhile. Who knew, maybe he was already there. Maybe it was time. Maybe what was so festered inside him was ready to be lanced. But would it ever go away. Couldn't he just stop thinking about it for a little while?
Chris wasn't sure if he was ready for that. Honestly, he didn't know. Because, he felt determined to spill his guts out to Max, and what ever may come he knew he'd have to live with that because wasn't that what God wanted? Honesty.
The tears kept pouring. It felt like a cleansing of sorts, but it just wouldn't stop. He'd walk these isles, even if couldn't tell where he was going. Somehow he'd find a way, but could he answer the one question Bro. Max would ask, "Why are you here?"