—Yeah. She makes me nervous. I think about her a lot. Like all the time. I wonder what she’s thinking and feeling. What’s she eating for breakfast? Why did she cut all her hair off last month? Was it because of the pregnancy? Does it have something to do with her not wearing a wedding ring anymore? And it’s none of my business, except I can’t stop wondering.

—Sometimes we become fixated.

—Is it sinful to become fixated on someone?

—Not necessarily. It depends on the contents of associated thoughts and feelings that accompany one’s fixation, and how one acts on those thoughts and feelings. What you describe doesn’t sound sinful to me—

—Father, I’ve only scratched the surface here, I don’t have much time—have you seen the line outside—

—Don’t worry about the line—

—Well, OK. Why is she driving an older car now? Why all the dresses? It must be more comfortable for her, right? And the dresses change how she feels when she leans over me from behind, her body against mine, which makes me feel like I’m dissolving. Like my spirit is free of all this shit. And when she places her stool behind me and puts her hands on my hands and her breath blows against my neck, I smell cinnamon and clove from the chai she drinks and her knees are so pale and smooth, Father, one on each side of me and this is the true serendipity, this is the ecstasy the saints and sinners wrote down before they died horrible deaths they welcomed with open arms because getting an erection in parachute pants hurts. Do you know how many zippers there are in parachute pants? It’s fucked up.

—How is it you’re wearing parachute pants?

—Ms. Tula lets us free dress, she doesn’t believe in uniforms.

Father Corbin chuckles, —Yes, of course she doesn’t. Watch the language.