Going into the building was… awkward at best. I knew I didn't fit in, I knew I didn't belong here, but for some reason, I'd showed up anyway. I slid into the very back pew, willing myself to stay invisible.

Why'd I come? The thought kept running through my head.

Truth was, I didn't know.

I sat there in the back and watched. I didn't know any of the hymns or the words the people were supposed to say, and if I wasn't doing that, then why stand-sit-kneel? I watched, participating in my own way, taking the time to think about (and criticize) everything that was said.

The final hymn that day was one I actually knew. Mimi used to hum it sometimes, a throwback to her Catholic childhood, I guess, something she cherished but just didn't take part in any more.

Amazing grace,
How sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me…

I once was lost,
But now am found;
Was blind, but now I see…

For whatever reason, that hit me. Not because of religion or whatever, but because it was so true for me. But not "the grace of God," or anything. Just Mark, who was there during my withdrawal and all the times I was a jerk to him, and he still stuck around, just because he was Mark.

I heard somewhere (probably some other service somewhere, way back when) that grace is getting something you don't deserve.

I sure as hell didn't deserve Mark.

I sat back and watched the choir sing, wrapped in my own thoughts, and then suddenly I realized they'd finished.

Oh, it was time to leave.

I stood quietly and slipped out as I'd come in, making my way home before anyone else had even woken.