He jerked awake and grabbed the saddle pommel to keep from falling. He’d set off for town early, when the stars were still out. The trip was as dull as this nag, and the new saddle Uncle Leopold had made was far too comfortable. He’d nearly fallen asleep. The light that startled him had refracted off the steeple of The Grim Abode, Willie’s name for the Congregational church. Josef felt truly sad for Reverend Grim. The preacher was to bury his second wife today, along with their newborn daughter. But Josef was still relieved to have escaped that man’s sermons. For years Josef had suffered—suffered!—the preaching of Reverend Grim. He understood why Willie had turned atheist with their father. Reason and Faith were the two great religions these days, but Josef couldn’t fix on either. To him life was beautiful and sorrowful in turns. Every time he slept on the roof, he knew beyond doubt that God was real, good, and everywhere. And until recently, every Sunday God’s mouthpiece had nearly convinced him otherwise.
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