“Rhychard? I thought that was you." Looking up, Rhychard saw the balding head and plastic smile of Miles Evans, one of the few members of Harvest Fellowship Rhychard was glad not to have to tolerate anymore. That was one of the things about going to church Rhychard hated. You had to be nice to the idiots. “How have you been? I haven't seen you around the church in a while." Miles took the other chair at the table and helped himself to Rhychard's peace and quiet. He was an odd-looking man with small ears, a nose that looked like it belonged on the yuppie's dog, and very thin eyebrows. He was short and squat, and his only exercise was pushing himself away from the table. By the size of him, he didn't exercise much.
“No, you haven't." Rhychard shrugged. Why is it church people only confront
