Okay, so I wear a lot of black and walk around in a trench coat. I have been called a goth because of that, but never this before.
I was striding down Broad Street just now, going to buy myself a sandwich, and an old woman shuffled up to me.
"Father, will you pray for me?" she asked.
I stared at her, entirely gobsmacked, while trying to figure out how to best communicate the whole not being a priest thing.
"Thank you," she said, and shuffled off again.
Well, that's a first.
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