The Day I Wore Purple

8.1 When Death Was a Dying Word

2048 / Year 35

August

Jon braced himself on his wife's arm and crawled through the broken window. His shoe landed with a crunch on a pile of colorful glass.

"How's that for spontaneity?" Storm asked.

He brushed off his pants and marveled at the inside of the abandoned church. "Did you find out who bought the property?"

Her eyes disappeared behind a cloud of information. "It looks like demolition is set for tomorrow, but that's all I can find. What do you think they'll make it?"

He shrugged. "Another breather tavern?"

"Jesus, I hope not."

"Speaking of Jesus..." He nodded to a life-sized, lopsided crucifix.

"Creepy."

Jon took his wife's hand and ushered her into the open sanctuary with its bleak, gunmetal shadows. The ground had become a theological minefield of Bibles and hymnals. Foam spewed from seams in every pew. Graffiti spanned the walls and changed color with every step: "Genesis 11:5-6," "Exodus 9:8-12," "Revelation 21:6." In luminescent paint above the piano: "He that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow."

"What a shame," Storm said, her fingers bouncing along the fluting of a defaced column. "It would have made a great wedding venue."

"Who knows, in three years we could be renewing our vows in this very spot."

"I've always wanted to get re-married in a breather tavern."

Jon released Storm's hand and turned his head to the top of the pillar. "In Greece these would have been carved from limestone." He rapped his fist on the column and a hollow thunk reverberated to the ceiling.

"How are things?" she asked. "At home... have you been keeping busy?"

"I've been good."

She smirked. "It says you're lying."

"I've been content."

"Still lying."

He sighed. "I've been working on contentment."

"There it is." She grinned. "It doesn't bother you to have a bread-winning wife?"

He cocked his head. "Really?"

"Really."

"No. It doesn't."

"That one's true! Do you miss me when I'm at work?"

He looked away. "Of course I miss you."

"Annnd you're lying again."

He pressed his head into the column and reconsidered his phrasing. "It makes me happy when you come home from work."

"Mmm."

"Was that true?"

"That was true."

The sun found a break in the overcast sky and the cathedral brightened through boarded windows. For a moment, the church seemed whole again.

Storm slipped her arm around his waist. "Happy anniversary, Jon."

"Happy anniversary, Storm."

* * *

The moment Hannah saw Aimee's beautifully engorged body, she knew why her friend wanted to meet in person. "Atractiva!" she shouted across the coffee shop.