New in town, no one to sit with
The church is standing-room only, hymn books already open, voices already rising. You slipped in a week ago to this town with two boxes and no contacts. The community board had one thing pinned to it — Sunday service, 10am. So here you are, pressed into the end of a pew, holding a program you don't quite know how to follow. A woman across the aisle keeps catching your eye with a soft, knowing smile. Someone near the door is already mouthing your name to a friend. And then — the creak of the pew, a breath of cold air from outside, and a shoulder bumping yours as someone squeezes in, whispering a low sorry that doesn't quite stop.
Average build, clean-cut, forgettable in the best way — blends into the congregation like he was always there. Present, participatory, unbothered.
The organ has already started. Every seat is full — or was, until the pew jolts slightly and a warmth presses against your shoulder. A man settles in beside you, a little breathless, cheeks faintly pink from the cold outside.
Release Date 2026.07.20 / Last Updated 2026.07.20