Joshua Abrams wouldn't call himself a religious man.

  Sure, he went to church in his youth, a practice that slowly lost weight in his life as money became tighter. His energy on Sundays were nearly depleted, hours spent in the pews were instead spent slouched over a register, counting the seconds on the clock mounted on the far wall of his dipidated workpce.

  Joshua Abrams wouldn't call himself a religious man.

  The cross he wore around his neck felt more like an accessory to him than a symbol of faith, but he would never dare speak those words aloud. No, it is not because of those around him.

  His father would understand- he always seemed to understand him, coupled with their simir looks the neighbors never fail to mention every time we catch them at the undromat, Joshua wonders if his father is feeling nostalgic. A carbon copy of his younger self, with the same looks, same voice, and possibly the same hesitation towards faith.

  He looked at Joshua, who made no issue with expressing this to him, the same way he looked at an old picture book, cataloging his youth. Like he already knows how Joshua is going to end up, even if he's already lived 20 years of life.

  His mother would be disappointed, but just as understanding. Considering her husband is the same, Joshua imagines that this was almost expected of him.

  So no. He does not feel guilt to those around him.

  It's because he feels safe with it on.

  For some reason, he feels secure when the light silver beads rub against the back of his neck, and the barely noticeable weight hangs off it.

  Like an invisible barrier is put between him, and “them”... A warm bnket a child to hide under during a thunderstorm, or the feeling of denim between their fingers as they hide behind their mother and cling to her pant leg.

  But who is “them”? Is this merely a pcebo? The cross means safety against evil, so that means wearing it means he's safe, right?

  Or is it… something different?

  Something primal… no, otherworldly, like deep down within the depths of his soul, there's a small fme of a long forgotten longing for something far greater than himself. Hidden behind the veil of his animalistic urges and instincts programmed into his blood.

  That is why he feels guilty, he gets to feel security for a religion he never took seriously, shamelessly reaping the benefits without deserving it.

  But he never thought of it all that much, maybe at te nights his tired mind would py out his every insecurity and mistake like a sadist, but overall it didn't linger for more than a few moments in his head.

  At least, that is until now.

  “Hello?...”

  Joshua Abrams wouldn't call himself a religious man.

  But as he stares at the myriad of lights in front of him, like perpetually changing mosaic stained gss shifting slowly between the color spectrum- wrapping around a… “someone” like a cloak, Joshua feels fear.

  For maybe he should be.

  His mind feels fear, but something deep inside cries out in joy. A childlike joy he hasn't felt in forever.

  The vast… “someone” doesn't move, or at least he isn't able to see it. But he feels a gaze, like the feeling of someone staring at you. But instead of wariness, it feels comforting, like a mother welcoming you home.

  Is… is this…

  Did he die? How?!

  Joshua can barely look around, it's like his senses are useless here. But he's able to… sense.

  A vast silence among the noisy Heaven.

  And just as silent, “someone” doesn't say a word.

  Feeling a warmness at his chest, he looks down, only for the world itself to spin.

  It's seamless, like the travel was simply changing a channel. Not even worth the sense to comprehend it.

  One moment he stood in the garden of angels.

  In the next.

  He stood in a field of flowers, a garden of man.

  Joshua Abrams wouldn't call himself a religious man.

  But as he stares at the translucent white and gold rectangle in front of him, floating motionless like a sci-fi hologram…

  He begins to dredge through his mind of what prayers he learned as a kid.

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  He stares bnkly at the boxes, then at his surroundings, forcing his gaze to something else.

  It's a pin, with shin high grass with smaller fields of flowers. There's a forest to his left, which he can't see that far into the treeline.

  For some reason, even though it seems like it's morning, with the sun shining bright, he feels…

  Very unsafe.

  Like something is watching him, that feeling again, but not comfortable at all.

  This feels more familiar.

  Fear.

  Joshua sees a structure in the distance, only able to make out its shape among the fields.

  He doesn't feel like he has an option.

  In an unfamiliar nd, he does the only thing he can do.

  Joshua moves.