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Post by Treyvon Johnson on Sept 29, 2006 20:05:04 GMT
I nod and give a smile that is all mouth. I don't want him to think I'm up to something.
"Okay."
It's all I can do to keep from twitching nervously. I hate it when he looks at me...
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Post by Storyteller on Oct 5, 2006 18:35:54 GMT
You step out of the shop, and resist the urge to look over your shoulder as the bell dings behind you.
You pace the street back up to the church, holding out every hope that he's not going to find something to hold against you. Perhaps he's got something positive to say.
You finally arrive back at the church, and head to the office. You push open the door. he's left it unlocked for once, which is a rare thing. The Chair he sets aside for guests beckons you.
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Post by Treyvon Johnson on Oct 9, 2006 1:12:29 GMT
I take the seat quickly and keep myself busy looking at my food. The smell of the chicken is so enticing but I don't dare eat in here without Pastor's permission. Besides, he likes to say grace. Maybe that'll keep him mellowed out. I like him like this. Well, like is a strong word but that's the closest thing I can think of.
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Post by Storyteller on Feb 23, 2007 12:13:39 GMT
After what feels like an age of waiting, the Pastor comes in. You leap to your feet as he enters, and he goes round to his desk, and sits in his chair. You stand across the desk, facing him.
He leans back slightly in his chair, glances out the window, before speaking, slowly and deliberately.
"Who was that girl...Joleen?"
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Post by Treyvon Johnson on Feb 27, 2007 14:47:44 GMT
"Joleen? She's just a friend of mine...she's always at the Popeye's."
I shouldn't have rushed that last part out. Now it seems like I'm hiding something. Me biting my lip constantly isn't helping, either.
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