“No, no, that is the last time you…” Words seemed to escape him every time he was filled with emotion.

“Uh, no, this one is your fault. You said you would meet me a 5 o’clock sharp in the park. And when YOU didn’t show up, I left.”

“I specifically texted you 6. Look.”

“But you told me on the phone earlier that day it was 5. You know I have put so much time into this relationship and you cannot even communicate with me properly. You know, that’s it. I’m done. I’m out, I’M OUT!” He remembered how harshly she slammed the door of his apartment, making the whole room shake as was browsing the shelves to replace the two plates that had fallen and broken.

As Finn left the store, he looked at his watch. 9:15 pm, my goodness, he had lost track of time. The cold winter wind blew through the streets as he walked back to his apartment. The streets were still bustling, as they never seem to sleep. On his way back he passed by at least 17 beggars, some old, who were destitute because of pricey hospital bills, some young people, who were struggling to keep jobs because of demons from their previous life, and some with families who were the result of misfortune. Finn did not like to talk or ever give to people like that because he feared being scammed and giving away money to people who did not need it.

He pulled out his keys and unlocked the door to his apartment. He turned on the light, put the plates on the table and plopped himself in front of the TV. He scanned quickly though at least 27 channels, before shutting off the TV, dissatisfied by what it had to offer. He then got up from the couch, grabbed his coat, scarf and keys, and walked out.

Walking was one of his favorite past times. When he was not working, or playing the flute, you could expect to find him roaming the streets looking for inspiration for his books, or new songs played by the street musicians at the corner of Main street. This time he walked with his head in concentration looking at the dark sidewalk which reflected his mood. As he walked, he thought about Lillian. She was special to him. She was the only person he knew who appreciated the music and the arts the way he did. But he kept asking himself, “Is she the right one for me?” This wasn’t the first time this had happened. There had been several occasions in the past three years they had been dating. He would say meet him somewhere at one time, and when she didn’t show up she would say that he said it would be at another time, even if he had physical proof. There had been so many hiccups in their relationship, and yet, so many fond memories, he didn’t know if it was right or wrong to keep prolonging the relationship.

            He looked up and found he had wandered into unfamiliar territory. He decided to pursue the path to put his mind somewhere else. He pulled out his phone and turned on the flashlight. The path wasn’t totally dark. It was illuminated with the occasional yellow light from the streetlamp. The residential area was different than what he was used to. It was quiet and calm in the evening unlike the busy streets he was used to. As he walked, he hummed to the tune of “Imagine” by John Lennon. So he came upon a local church, which was more the size of a chapel. He had gotten tired from walking a long way and decided to rest there a few minutes before he continued on his journey home.

            The door creaked as he opened it. It was very rustic inside. The pews were worn down and would have given you splinters if you rubbed your hand along then for more than afoot. Lit gleaned from 24 candles that were only nubs. Sitting in the front was an elderly man who was deep in prayer. From what he could tell, he was probably homeless and decided to avoid him as to not be mugged. He noticed, however, a pool in the front of the room. It was probably a baptismal font, but he decided to further investigate it anyway.

            The boards under his feet creaked as he walked up the aisle. The man at the front didn’t react to Brian’s approach. Once he reaches the font, he dipped his hand into and then proceeded to make the sign of the cross.

            “Why are you here?” a voice spoke. Brian turned around. He looked at the man but the man was too concentrated to have spoken.

“Why are you here?” the voice said again. He turned around to the front and looked above to see a cross speaking to him.

“Why are you here?” the cross asked him for the third time. He was too shocked to answer. Words escaped him and he began to stutter.

“You need to find her and reconcile with her. Only then will you be happy.”

“Who? Lillian?”

“Not her but you know the one of whom I speak.”

“No. No. No! She...she betrayed me betrayed my trust. How can I be happy with such a harlot? Lillian is the one who makes me happy. We have so much more in common than she and I ever had.”

“Trust me. Chloe is the right one for you. If you marry Lillian, you will constantly fight and end up in divorce. With Chloe, you will produce smart, kind, caring children. And if you choose no, you will be forever lonely and die and unaccomplished man.” As soon as he said that, his phone began to ring. It was Lillian.

“Hello,” Brian said.

“Look,” she said, “It wasn't you this time who screwed up, it was me. So I will take the blame for this one. I’m sorry.” Brian was elated, but he remembered the word of the cross. Should he go with her, but his heart told him this was a second chance. A chance to be rescued from the momentary depression of the fight earlier.

“I forgive you.  You know, let’s go out tomorrow. 5 o’clock, perhaps. We could go to the fancy Japanese restaurant you like.”

“Sure, that sounds great.” Brain ran out of the chapel in happiness. For the next few months, their relationship seemed to be going swimmingly. There were no more fights and they even had plans to get married. And on December 13 the finally did. As they processed out of the Church and down the steps to the limousine, Brian once again remembered the words of the cross, and how he defied them and did have a successful relationship with Lillian. However, it was not to last. A year later, Lillian became interested in another handsome, richer man since Brian had not sold a book in months and money was running low. Brian and Lillian divorce exactly 16 months to the day of their marriage. Brian went on to write one or two momentary successful novels, but not much money came from them. He later moved out of his apartment and perform the violin on the streets. He was happy to play music for the people of the city but longed to have someone to enjoy every note with.