"Asim, you really do rise much too early for your health," quipped Sophia after she clucked her tongue and looked me up and down. She was the baker in town, and while there wasn't a better baker than she in the entire world, there was perhaps never a baker quite as nosy either. I offered her a small chuckle and nodded my head to greet her. While she was nosy, she did make for good company because I didn't generally have to chat much. She supplemented the entire conversation nearly every time, and despite the fact that I never partook in the gossip she always felt the need to tell me things that I didn't want to hear. That wasn't unusual for me as the holy man in town; however, hearing the chatter of women occasionally made me joyful for a life of celibacy.
I walked towards where Sophia had popped her head out of her shop window. She had probably opened it to let the heat out from baking the bread so early in the morning as she often did, but I happened to walk by at just the time that she was doing so which was how she was able to catch me. "As you know, my lady, the Lord deserves my time above all else. I've never minded rising early to request his presence for the day."
Sophia squinted her eyes with distaste. "I never wake up early if I don't have to. Unfortunately this job keeps me up damn near every morning before the sun even rises. Father, I think that the Lord only rises when the sun does because he must get tired too. I know I sure as hell do."
I looked at the ground and coughed to cover up the laugh that rose to my throat. For a woman who's name meant wisdom in ancient Greek, sometimes she wasn't the brightest. I always thought at these times that God did have a sense of humor.
"Well, I just finished the bread up for the day," Sophia stated matter of factly, "so due to the fact that you're already here, come in and have a cup of tea. I insist." Sophia looked at me expectantly, and I could tell that she had been busy that week. The look in her eyes was one of need rather than want, and I noticed almost immediately that the phrase was not stated as a question. I knew already that I would not be able to refuse. When Sophia had a busy week, the first person to pass was the person to hear everything that had happened that week. Unfortunately that person had been me this week. Before I could even contemplate how to come up with an excuse about being busy, Sophia had already stepped out the door and began to pull me inside. "I've made scones too, Father. We can have breakfast together. Doesn't that sound fun?"
"Absolutely, Sophia," I managed to say weakly before I was pulled inside.
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I halfway listened to Sophia as the sun rose outside of her open window. The day had been cool when I had just woken up, but I could tell that the day would be muggy and the heat was already creeping inside leaving the air dry and humid. As Sophia continued to ramble on about her week and how curiously distressing it had been, I longed to sit with my bible in the creek on the opposite end of town. I could imagine the cool water licking my ankles and I couldn't picture a better way to spend the day. I hoped that Sophia would be distracted by something else soon so that I could make my exit, but it was still early in the day and the town would not quite be waking up. Suddenly, my attention was snapped back to reality and away from my regular daydreaming to attend to Sophia who had directly addressed me.
I cleared my throat and gazed into her light brown eyes. Her eyes were one of the qualities that pleased me about Sophia as I had always relished brown eyes. Brown eyes reminded me of my late family, all of which had passed about a decade ago when I was about 19. That was about the age that I decided that I wanted to be a holy man, and my family, which consisted of my elder brother, sister, and my mother, had absolutely no support for the idea. They believed that holy men lived impoverished lives of service and never had kids. On both accounts, I suppose they were right; however, I was happy and doing what the Lord commanded of me which was the most important thing. Yet, aside from Sophia's beautiful eyes, the rest of her was quite average for a woman in this town. She was a little heavier set, but in the way that one might expect of the daughter of a baker who had also become a baker. It simply meant that she had eaten well, and in a town that occasionally had troubles providing for its commoners that was generally a sign of wealth and a happy childhood. She additionally had a cream colored skin tone, small eyes, and a bodice that she had loosened the first few buttons on to attract my attention.
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I Will Not Leave or Forsake You
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