Dominic strode confidently towards the confessional. Despite the poor
start yesterday, he was filled with confidence. "Michael has at least
acknowledged his pride and hubris," he thought, "It is a start."
He entered the booth, took his seat, and opened the curtain. The room on the other side was empty, except for a scroll lying on the seat. Puzzeled and intrigued, he reached through the window and picked it up.
"Dear Dominic," he read to himself, "I must congradulate you. This is a great idea! Once I found out about it, I made some time in my busy schedule and got here early. I sat and waited, tingling with anticipation like an Ophanite awaiting his first Corporeal asignment. I was going to tell you about my goals and my concerns with them, and I was eagerly awaiting your advice.
"Unfortunatly it seems that you're running late, and I have to get back to work. Sorry I missed you. I'll try and make some time soon, but I don't think I'll have another opening in my schedule for another decade or so. Take care."
It was signed "Eli, Archangel of Creation".
Dominic stared at the scroll in his hands for several seconds, silent. Then, with a deliberate and measured movement, he began to thump his head against the wall of the confessional.
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