Thursday, September 23, 2010


Help - 68 words
Lindsey Thompson

A year ago, I walked into a pub on a Sunday evening, ordered a whiskey sour, and sat down at the bar next to a man, simply dressed, nursing a glass of wine. I told him God wouldn’t forgive him drinking on Sunday, even wine. He shrugged, whispered, “What if I am God?” I laughed, asked why he was drinking alone. “No one wanted My help,” he said.

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