The Sad Case of a Much-Needed Separation

Judy Peal never really believed in God. She played church so well that she married a preacher and lasted a whole 11 years with him before she ran out of energy and will. You can imagine what a depression might come with the realization that you had just divorced the self induced-poison of faith in false conventions such as prophecy. She still managed to get herself through a dark phase of loneliness and confusion with the determination of someone whose prophetic faith in nature could trump the status quo.
It was like being a non-weight bearing beam in a frivolously gaudy steeple and cross; you ran a thorn of pointless venom through the otherwise elegant and necessary structure. And one might only imagine the drawings of such wasted plans to be a thing of sheer squalor and deeply set ink from a lengthy and belabored concocting of such shameless indulgence. Judy tended to think of herself as shameless and indulgent, too.
The idea that she was leaving a man and a marriage which were both rooted to an unwavering piety soaked through her like spilt coffee through a thin cloth napkin.
There would be metric weight for a guilt of that inescapable magnitude. In fact, the ripple effect that such a sensation would wrack upon the surface any mistaken perception would issue tremors of the the most thoroughly unfamiliar and puzzling new kind. It would be a masochistic thirst. Like stealing a firm press on a dark bruise just to feel alive. So alive that it might be called thorough. What a beautiful detail indeed.

And in this was found the moment outside of a moment...




...but not really.