The music started again. He wasn't a man retreating from a fight anymore; he was a man walking through one, knowing the victory was already written in the lyrics of his life.
"It won't work," he whispered. Then louder. "It won't work!" Fred Hammond - No Weapon Formed Against Me Shall Prosper
Marcus walked out of the church ten minutes later. The sun was setting, painting the sky in defiant oranges and purples. He still had to call the landlord. He still had to find a job. But as he started his car, he hit the back button on the CD player. The music started again
The heavy wooden doors of the sanctuary creaked open, but Marcus didn’t look up. He sat on the front pew, his head buried in his hands. The eviction notice in his pocket felt like it was burning a hole through his jeans. After twelve years of loyal service, the factory had closed, and Marcus felt the walls of his life closing in with it. Then louder
He reached into his bag and pulled out a worn CD player. He slipped in a disc he’d listened to a thousand times: Spirit of David .