Though he had thanked him, a familiar unease lingered in Messiah Christel's chest.
He didn't know why.
Only that this scene felt as though it had happened many times before.
As the Father disappeared through the back door, Messiah's gaze drifted upward.
A clock hung on the wall.
Two baby-faced angels were carved into its frame.
The hands pointed to 6:30.
Too early for work.
Maybe I should go home.
He shifted his posture.
That was when he noticed it.
He was still holding the glass.