The man drenched in river water might have lain there for hours, or only minutes. When he woke up, he was wrapped in a blanket, and lying on a couch in a room of dark wood, burgundy walls, religious paintings and artifacts, all set off by biblically-themed tapestries. Above it all was a picture of Jesus with nail-pierced hands indicating toward His burning heart surrounded by a crown of thorns. When he heard someone mumbling he looked down and saw a man dressed in a robe kneeling by his side, praying.
My God, where the hell am I?
The praying man looked up. “Well, I see you’re awake,” he said as he rose to his feet. “I’m Father Joseph, the priest of this parish. I was saying my evening prayers earlier when I heard the pounding on the door. When I rushed to open it, I certainly didn’t expe
