They breathe incense and say a prayer for conscience. And strength. And a Godspeed  journey. En route to safety, supplicants meet an impasse. Unyielding metal vehicles push forward to the blast of mindless pontificating, spewing angry exhaust fumes to fill potholes. Polluting, endangering, inspiring fear. Forks in the road destroy the path to sanctity. Take a wrong turn, you’ll miss heaven’s gate.

At the border, wooden buildings loom. Maybe there’s a cross, maybe inside is sanctuary. Immunity for fugitives who flee to sacred ground. A medieval state of mind, a modern state of grace. Decried in the rush to judgement.

She hit the pavement at a fast walk. Was he following? No matter. Dusk called out pinpricks of starlight and dark bat shadows.

“They roost in caves.” He scanned the sky.

“It’s warmer when they’re all together.” She hugged her arms, working her short legs to take two steps for his one.

He slowed the pace, wrapping her shoulders in rough tweed.

Small actions, a snowballing effect.

Water droplets on his Einstein frizz fractured under each passing street lamp. She noticed.

At her flat, she returned his jacket. She closed the door, unsettled by the speed of change between them.