11:40 a.m. Passion Ministry

John stared at Jimmy. A shadow surrounded his son’s mouth, the mark of the dreaded nebulizer mask. Ever since Jimmy’s first birthday, asthma crises had been frequent. There were many times John had cursed himself for pushing for his son’s birth. He rubbed his locket. No one eluded their destiny.

“He’s going to be fine,” Andrew said gently, leaning in the doorway.

John nodded. He reached out to stroke his boy’s damp forehead.

“Don’t do that.”

John hesitated, then pulled back. The room buzzed with an odd anxiety.

“You look terrible. Not eating, are you?” Andrew scratched his beard. “Present or not, the stigmata takes its toll. You’ve been doing far too much, and now...” He sighed. “It’s enough to kill the average person.”