I prayed, and then prayed, and then prayed some more, as I tried to not think very much of the habit of the local police of relieving their boredom by finding offenses that did not exist, or that of the local judiciary of indulging them in this. But there he was every night, that old man, watching, twitching, his lips moving to mouth words to which his breath refused to give life. "His devotions" ... those words I could discern, over and over. Why was he here? He seemed awfully interested in me, at a time when I knew that bright sparkling new prison was remarkably empty, and no, that couldn't be a good sign.

Tonight seemed different. My friend wasn't to be found. Maybe he had decided that prayer wasn't a crime? Maybe he had a jay walker to incarcerate? Maybe he had died? Yes, that must be it. He had to be at least 40, and with all of that running around and riding on car hoods that people in his line of work did, his heart must have given out. Unless it hadn't. Had he found somewhere else to sit?

As nonchalantly as I could, I would glance toward one corner of the church or another. I took my time. I could not let him know that I had found him when I found his hiding place, or this escape would not be as successful as my first. But one does not often have the chance to be subtle, properly, so this process took hours, so clumsy was I in what I was trying to do, from lack of practice. Hours? Had it really been hours? The echoing music of the bells above insisted that it had been. Could he not have moved in this time? In a panic, I forgot subtlety, shunned it as a fake friend, and looked about. No investigator present to note the damage I was doing to public morals, in my excess. I had been driving myself insane, chasing phantoms. Eyes rolling heavenward in what I knew somebody would mistake for ecstasy - not sexual ecstasy, I hoped, given the neighborhood - I sighed deeply and loudly, knowing that I had added to the unwanted illusion, but not caring. He was gone. In true peace, I finally brought myself to do what I should have been doing from the beginning - praying without fear.

Another hour passed, and my knees finally vouced for what another peeling of the bells had just told me. I had been here a very long time. The church was almost empty now, the parson looking at me with impatience that his saintly demeanor of choice did little to conceal. I suppose that I couldn't blame him. In another hour, I probably would have needed his help to get up. I had been as selfish as I had been foolish, not thinking of this poor man who had waited so long to lock up, and no doubt had affairs of hois own to attended to. I would have to seek his pardon the next day.

To my delight, I found that God had not forgotten my iniquities. Beside my usual beggar, to whom I had given an offering every night as I departed, before my fears had kept me from arriving, I found a companion, no doubt one in even more desperate straits than himself. Gladdened that I would have a chance to atone for my thoughtlessness tonight, at least a little, I took three coins in my hand, so that I might begin to reimburse the usual poor soul for my days of neglect.

I stepped through the door. The coins clattered against the pavement. Springing to his feet, the new beggar revealed himself to be none other than my pursuer, who seized the back of my collar with more force than I would have imagined a man of his years capable. "Good evening", the fiend said, his eyes ablaze with the fires of the Hell into which I knew I would soon be cast. His joy seemed complete, and I didn't know what to do. An iron hand forced me down the stairs, knocking away any thought that I might resist. Even without the assistance of his fellow officers, who were certain to be in wait around the corner, ready to record my transgressions for the trial that was sure to follow ... this man could have torn me apart. If I did not remain calm, I would surely be lost. Only in Christ's gentle teachings were to be found my salvation, those teachings shown to be more practical than I had ever knoen them to be before this dark hour.

Turn the other cheek. I would turn the other cheek, and present this man with no excuse for releasing the violence that lived in his soul. In this, I would defeat him.