Maybe Waylon's day was looking up after all. He shuffled to the shower and exchanged caveman like grunts of acknowledgment with others from his floor....As he shaved, he took a close look at his lip, and what he thought might be the makings of a black eye. One thing he couldn't complain about was the dorm's commercial boilers because the showers always had plenty of hot water. He stood in the shower and tried to reassemble his memories of the previous night. He still wasn't sure what had. He didn't know any of these people, didn't understand why everyone was laughing, didn't know what to look for when people began to walk down the aisles. He was an outsider here, completely unconnected from the sacrament going on in front of him; he didn't even have the benefit of Caitlyn's company, as she was up front with the harp while a place was found for him in the back. In fact, the only thing he recognized was the processional music: the timeless Cantique de Jean Racine by Gabriel Faure.. More

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