Stop in for a cup of coffee
Thru the doors I go and the Sanctuary is eerily quiet, row upon row of empty seat, I turn and make my way along the wall to the steps leading down to the basement. With courage and determination I take those first steps, the passageway slowly but inexplicably grows ever brighter. As I emerge from the corridor the smell of burnt stale coffee washes over me. As I gaze longingly at the table with the obligatory stale doughnuts and cookies I grudgingly approach the circle of wood chairs ancient and tottering. I take my place in the circle looking at each individual gathered around. The orator starts with an opening but I cannot hear it as the wind is rushing thru my ears. My brain is roaring, telling me to flee. Invariably the momentum of the circle bears down on me. With glazed eyes and a solemn oath I reply “ Hello, my name is John, I eat crayons” In unison, as one, they reply Hi John.