Is there truth in that? Story, you just told. Or is it fiction? Maybe an out and out lie, he said. There’s ways of getting to the core of something. Place where all truth is. We dig at it each day. Scrape off a little skin till we get to the bone. That’s where it hurts, he took a drink of whiskey.

You went out one night.

Go on.

I followed you. Through cornfields, you crossed the highway. You were following some kind of light. A path.

Be sure you’re telling the truth.

That road took you to South Calhoun. A blue house with a red light shining over the porch. Sign that read, The Kingdom. I watched you go inside from across the street.

You got the wrong guy.

Came out an hour later. You looked cold and disheveled. The streetlight shined down on you.

That’s a lie.

I knocked on that door. A woman came dressed in lingerie.  She asked if I wanted to come in. I just shook my head. Started crying.

About what?

My daddy. Whoring around town. I watched you walk back home. Saw the shadow of you. Talking to yourself.

What did I say?

You were mumbling about death. How you weren’t fit for this world. Bout being a sinner.

You got it all wrong.

Do I? Said, do I? Momma died without knowing. Or, did she?

Your mom didn’t know nothing.

Hmmm. She knew lots of things. She smelled your clothes. Your breath. Heard you coming and going in the night.

This is all made up. You got some kind of mind boy. 

Yeah. I suppose I do. But one thing is certain.  You’re going to answer to somebody. Yes, sir. I’d get on my knees now if I were you, the kid pulled out a pistol. Aimed it at him. On your knees. We all pay for our sins.