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+--- Forum: Greater Moscow and the Golden Ring (https://thefirstage.org/forums/forum-14.html)
+--- Thread: Anniversary (/thread-537.html)
- Jensen James - 09-17-2013
Early morning light had yet to crest the buildings of the complex to stream through his small window, yet Jensen crossed and threw open the meager curtain anyway. The sky was a soft pink glow, and he didn't need to look at his watch to know what time it was. He arrived home following the night shift at the exact same time every day.
A jacket and personal things he dumped on the couch on the way to the kitchen wall where he plucked a well-cleaned glass from a rickety cabinet and filled it with warm tap water. Only after reminding himself to pick up OJ on the way home from tomorrow's shift.
He stared longingly at the third wall which hid a Murphy's bed, but instead found himself seated at the table and firing up a laptop. Please God let there be a connection today. Internet in the Moscow ghetto was shoddy at best.
The homescreen rose into view. There, splashed across the monitor, was a Dallas news clog. A collection of headlines all filtered by the DFW region. He could barely breathe as his eyes scanned tile after tile. By the time he scrolled to yesterday's grid, his eyes glazed over the words displayed there.
It had been four years to the day Jensen disappeared, but he had to know. He had to know if there was any story. "Search for missing preacher abandoned", That one had hurt, but like ripping off a band aid, he was glad the day they called it off. It meant his family could close that chapter of their lives and move on without him. But like the other stories from the years past, the scars remained, and tasted of bitter remorse. "Megachurch preacher flees after sex scandal", "Local televangelist inducted into Hall of Shame", "Jensen James brilliantly beguiled his flock", "Deadbeat-dad dead? Or skips town?", "...Hypocrite...", "...Liar...".
Hair fallen across his eyes, he rubbed his forehead, numb, and gently closed the laptop. There were no stories. The anniversary came and went, forgotten. He wasn't sure if it was relief or regret flooding his face with heat at the moment, but he finished the water and looked dully at the liquor cabinet, but decided instead to merely take a shower and go to bed.