It was a modestly sized holding cell.
A crucifix hung in the most central spot outside the prison.
Inside the iron bars sat a man with messy hair.
He had a full beard and a thoroughly dejected look on his face.
The strong mixed stench of smoke and alcohol clinging to him made him smell like salted fish that had been pickled for ages. Who knew how long it had been since this guy last took a bath.
Not far from him sat a rather skinny man. His face was somewhat pale, but his eyes kept sneaking glances at the other man, as though he were deeply curious about him.
"I'm not gay. Keep staring at me, and I'll gouge your eyes out."
The man rolled his eyes in exasperation.
But the skinny white man beside him was good-natured. He merely said with a grin, "No, I'm just curious."
He pointed at the other man's black cassock, the typical attire of a priest—the kind who believed in God and neither smoked nor drank.
But this guy was different from other priests. The dark calluses on his hands alone showed that he smoked plenty.
And he reeked heavily of alcohol, too.
Simply put, this guy smoked and drank behind closed doors.
"So what? The fuck's it got to do with you?"
Jesse raised a middle finger at the skinny man. Then a sheriff walked in from outside and opened his cell door. "You can go, Jesse. Just don't be so impulsive and break people's bones next time."
"Got it."
Jesse tossed away the cigarette butt in his hand, waved goodbye to the sheriff, and left.
Back at the church where he lived, Jesse sat in a seat beneath the cross, lit a cigarette, and took a deep, contented drag as he