Write Me A Sin

Benjamin Housely was nervous, as well he should be.

He wore a tuxedo, a vibrant red rose in the pocket. His look was completed with an expression on his face that seemed relieved but actually revealed that he was close to throwing up.

Benjamin Housely had just gotten married.

I could no longer stand to listen to him cry and whine and hyperventilate in his dressing room. I was walking up and down the rows in the church, wondering how I'd let him go through with it.

And who am I? You can call me... Ben. Ben Housely. I'm his conscience.

But I'm no Jiminy Cricket, I'm no saint. And neither is Benjamin. But I don't lead him to do much wrong and some things he goes through, he just doesn't deserve.

He and I were about to stare into the face of one of those things.

***
Everything begins with a story. Life, death, love, hate. Everything. Here's Ben's story.

The wedding had just ended and I decided to escape, I mean, step away, from Ben for just a minute.

Yes, consciences can do that, step out and come back. Have you ever thought about doing something truly outrageous?

Those are the moments when your conscience is on his or her union mandated break. If you have those moments often, I suggest finding religion because you need help and unfortunately your conscience can't be fired.

Anyway, I walked up and down the rows, retrieving little pink flower petals from the ground, tearing in half and throwing them over my shoulder. Just for the hell of it.

And this is where our story begins.

Well, imagine. As I'm pacing the pews of a church corridor...

I looked toward the altar to see two people talking. The man, tall and overbearing in stature, wore a suit and towered over the small woman who walked with him, wearing a bridesmaid's dress.

And I can't help but to hear...

Okay, I did move closer. But it's not like they could see me!

Yet.

"Oh, wasn't that wedding so great?" The woman was gushing and the man seemed quite bored. He was obviously a waiter who wanted only to do his job and rid himself of the bothersome woman.

What a beautiful wedding. What a beautiful wedding, says a bridesmaid to a waiter.

The man continued to clean the church building and the woman trailed him like a lost puppy.

"But it's so sad," she said. "So, so sad."

The man's ears perked up. After all, in a town as small as this, you had to be in the know.

But what a shame...

"And why do you say that? It's a wondrously happy occasion!" He put on a fake look of astonishment. Really he needn't go through all the trouble of acting.

The woman would have disclosed the information anyway.

"Well, I'm sure you've heard, small town like this," she said cryptically. And upon realizing that her companion had not heard, her face lit up and she leaned in closer.

"The poor groom's bride is a whore."