Paramatman Cont.

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 Wager whispered into the carpet just inside his office door.
 “Paramatman, all that is, I rejoice in unending service to your name.”
Reluctantly he stood. Prostration felt like the only time his purpose was clear and his mind at ease.
His spirits were high; this day was a good one for him. Nolie was a known familial and her conversion seemed very close. Generally one on one conversion wasn’t the business of Elders of Wager’s stature, but he had a special interest in seeing this through. Working with Nolie through the rites would be seen by the Board as a selfless act of service.
 Service was the basis of a good Uniccord member. And Wager had always done more than was required, and moved steadily higher in his sect. He was accepted to the Board at the relatively early age of 37 and now four short years later he was actually a valid candidate for the Trifecta.
 The Uniccord Trifecta was the highest office and was shared by three equally powerful Elders. Wager didn’t like to think about what would be happening to Elder Veers in the near future, but taking over her place in the Trifecta was constantly on his mind.
 The antiquated method of retiring Uniccord members was clearly outlined in the scriptures, but remained one of the things that Wager was wont to question in the quiet places of his heart.
 Euthanasia seemed to Wager to go against everything else that Uniccord stood for. But then again the quiet acceptance of death when one’s time had expired was very much a civilized idea. It had always confused him, but never, since his rites, had he admitted this confusion to anyone. He was an Elder and a leader. His reports counted on him and in essence all members of all of their flocks counted on him too. He was a role model.
 He had found himself in supplication much of the last few days, being that upon acceptance into the Trifecta he would be obligated to perform the deed himself.
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2am text with No Destination

When I was 13 I met a boy, Andrew. We were boyfriends for maybe a whole five minutes, then friends after that. A few months later, he says to me something like this: You're so cool Becca. But it’s weird, You're just not As cool as I thought you were when I first met you... and he said it with a frankness that to me indicated the only reason it left his mouth was that he was so truly mystified and needed to express it on the (extremely) off chance that I had some explanation to give him. I didn't know what to say and was surprised to find myself still standing there largely unharmed by the pronouncement but floundering none the less for some response to give. I don't recall what I said nor do I know what I should have said.
I find myself wondering at this point if there was some defining moment, in which my words or actions irrevocably changed your view of me. Or was it more subtle. The elongating shadow that grows with the sunset until it seems to reach forever, but is abruptly and replace by the nearly nonexistent streetlight version. Is there a way to get back to the place that kept you waiting to wake up so we could talk to each other again. Once I was lying in your arms weeping at the possibility of a time when I would not be welcome there. you said to me the only reason for me not being there would be if I didn't want to be. At the time it was hard to believe, but could feel that you believed it and that gave me comfort. Between that moment and this one...