Evret Marr

Finnigan was a despicable human being, a fact he himself well knew. He looked up at the large colorful rosette of St. Jude’s Chapel illuminated with the warm soft glow of tens of hearts in prayer. ‘Ah, Christmas Time!’ he whispered with relish, breathing hot air into his gloveless cupped hands. It was freezing but Finnigan knew his hardship would soon be rewarded. He’d scrounge around the crowd for a while and then it’s straight off to The Sidetrack. He could already feel the whiskey streaming down his throat, heating him up, filling up all his empty spaces… Finnigan willed the doors to already open – floodgates letting the wave of parishioners spill put into the courtyard and Finnigan’s outstretched arms. He had found out long ago that he belonged …

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