As usual on Sunday there was a note on the door:

Do-it-yourself Sunday service

Gabriel had longs since stopped expecting anyone to actually take up on this offer, but it felt like a good habit, marking the passage of weeks. Today he was reading some kind of cheesy romance novel, although the modern, updated variety which included passages of disgusting smut. He skipped those.

Cat was bored. That probably wasn't a good thing.

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