We search for it. We yearn to receive it. But how many of us actually give it?
I have become the Godtick. I stay close. Under His skin. Call me a parasite. Call me a pain. Maybe. But... buried under His skin. I find... nutrients. And a glow. Maybe I let go now. Nah, I much prefer my host.
He pushes past. Past the yelling cars and the train wreck of screaming people. He sees the clouds. And the faintest scent of water tells him to walk... faster! Lord, he says. Lord! Just give me 15 minutes to get home. You know what happens when rain touches my skin. Still, the scent of rain grew closer. He runs. Faster. Dodging the first drop. And the third. And the fifth. And in 7 1/2 minutes he is inside. Just before hell was doused by the deluge. Why God. I asked for 15, he says panting. And yet, as you pushed yourself, came the reply, you realised... all you needed... was seven. Go change your clothes.