(Ron)
It’s like walking into a mansion – only smaller. The walls are white and almost perfectly clean, each window dressed with golden curtains. The thrust stage at the front is covered with shiny tiles, the benches sitting perfectly aligned.
Music fills the air, and the mass of people in the room are singing along to the gospel song. The choir standing at the front isn't focused on those walking into the church. As I enter, I scan the room for the one face I have been meaning to see a surprise on; Olivia.
There she is, standing in the choir, her eyes gazing blankly at a spot somewhere behind the people standing at the left side of the room.
She doesn’t notice me.
I take an available seat on the right, which an usher’s offered me; beside a little guy petting a stuffed puppy, and his mother, standing, clapping her hands and singing along. It’s not a very obvious seat –it is, after all, at the back of the church.