When Pietro-Bruce-Chan stepped back and moved away, Calvin got closer to Francis. His heart was full of pity for the tall hippy laying there.
He had a handsome face - a kindly face - a noble face. A fine gold cross had fallen into the sand, pulled from his neck when Charley had ripped his shirt away from his wound.
Calvin picked up the necklace and placed the cross into Francis’s hand. Calvin closed his eyes and all at once felt a spiritual pull, as though he was sinking into the deepest of deep waters, down into the most quiet place imaginable - and the voices and the noises of everything around him could no longer be heard.
It was a sweet feeling of uttermost silence, an inner chamber of resonant harmonies allowing him to breathe once again the ethers of perfection. He sighed, and to everyone’s surprise he began to pray audibly - he was praying for the broken and the bleeding man before them.
- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances
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