so possessive about his stuff. He’s got this box he brought home from
work and no-one’s allowed to touch it. But Sam hid it in his pocket
before church. He’s pulling off the ribbons now, face so intent. I lean
over his shoulder—just to peak. It’s empty. Church is going
overboard on incense these days. It stinks. Then I hear an animal noise,
see a camel, and look up into the face of a king. What’s going on here? Choir’s still singing. I hear Peter’s voice, “I thought I told you…” and I’m beside him in church again.