By the looks of the girl, it had been raining heavily outside. Her hair came down in dark ringlets framing a painted face. The rain or tears had turned her heavy eyeliner into a running raccoon's mask. What little clothes she wore were plastered to her slim curves, as she shivered sitting on the hard wooden bench. The stiletto heels, the heavy makeup, the fact that her skirt did nothing to cover the goosebumps on her thighs all suggested what it was she did for money.

She reached into her purse and grabbed something, it was hard to see what exactly through the small grate. Then the entire wood paneled booth lit up cherry red for an instant, highlighting her, a brief flash of a photograph. She was trembling. Was it the cold?

*You can't smoke here* A declaration unspoken.

She exhaled slowly, smoke carrying from the other side of the confessional. She spoke then, softly. From down in the delta, Cajun? “So .. um .. do you really believe in God?”