**Moved from Brothel IC Thread**<br/><br/><strong>Bill Shea- Heading Home</strong><br/><br/>There was still so much work at the garage that Bill needed to square away, not to mention that he hadn’t changed the oil in his own truck for nearly five months, but for now it was all he could do to keep his eyes open for the short drive back to his house. Bill parked in the driveway and fumbled with his keys in the lock and didn’t even bother turning on any lights.<br/><br/>After brushing his teeth in the dark, he collapsed on top of his bed with all his clothes still on and fallen asleep before his head even hit the pillow.<br/><br/><strong>**Morning**</strong><br/><br/>The annoying bark of his alarm clock was barely enough to even pierce the depth of slumber Bill was buried under. He heard the noise, recognized it as his own alarm, but simply couldn’t find the surface of consciousness.  His alarm had been blaring for over an hour by the time he was able to muscle his eyes open.<br/><br/>The sight of the red numbers on the clock told Bill just how long he’d overslept. He was lat for church!<br/><br/>Bill shot up out of bed, stumbling over the mass of covers that he pulled off the bed with him. There was no time for a real shower so instead he stripped off his clothes from the night before and washed himself with a washcloth over the sink. He cut himself several times, trying to shave his face, acting more like he was clearing brush with a machete than shaving his own face. He raced to the closet, grabbing his “Church Suit” (http://ak1.ostkcdn.com/images/products/P11124034.jpg) from a hanger. He dressed in a hurry, draping the tie around his neck as he brushed his teeth and headed for the door.<br/><br/>The drive wasn’t far which was lucky for Bill, even though the “Change Oil” light had come to life on the Tahoe’s display panel. Parking, however, was a different task all together, arriving late as he was. Eventually he settled on a space in the far back corner of the church parking lot and tied his tie in the rearview mirror.<br/><br/>The New Harrisville Falls Church wasn’t his first choice for Sunday service, when his son had still been living with him, Bill would often drive the forty-five minutes to the next town over where there was a “Black Church” that led much more lively services, and their choir was really top notch. But since Noah left and he’d been working at the Gulch, Bill seldom woke in time to make that trip.<br/><br/>Jogging at a moderate pace, Bill made his way inside and sat in the back, breathing heavy as he tried to figure out how much he’d missed. Bill opened the bible stored just in front of him, searching for which of the hymns the congregation was in the midst of reciting, moving his lips silently to appear to know the words by heart.<br/><br/>Bill tried to ignore the sidelong glances from those around him who had noticed his late arrival.