Dragging his shackled feet to the muddied crossroads.
He looks back at his deformed footsteps burdened with sin.
Each one as grave as the deed which forced his weight to overwhelm the fragile knees on which he balances his pride.
Left. Right. Forward. He looks on wondering which direction his drunken sin will shove him towards.
And at that same crossroads was a woman who looked too clean, too pure, too free, to have a place in his overcast and dirt ridden world.
He stops in his tracks. She smiles.
An array of confused thoughts battle for his attention as his mind races with fear, fear of the unknown.
A long silence makes itself a home between the travellers.
She points forward, smiles and opens her soft palm to the stranger.
Frozen he stills his heart.
A bloodied palm, opened in plea.
He releases a defeated breath, as he opens his eyes to the cracks of the ceiling he befriended.
“Time to go” he hears, as he musters his strength to meet his judgement.