Dahlia woke to singing. Her body was stiff, her palms blazing. She stood up and walked over to a man who was peering around the corner of Donald's apartment building.
"What time is it?" she asked.
"6:04," he answered, without looking at her or a watch.
"Who's singing?"
"Right over there. Singing to Jesus."
Dahlia looked around the corner. A beautiful young shirtless man in tight leopard pants stood facing the apartments. The words were from Job 34. She smiled at the irony, for never was a body less afflicted than this man's, from skeleton to muscle to skin. Yet he sang with such authority, this seemed less a song adapted from a Bible verse than the Bible as a song. She could even believe this was the original version, hastily transcribed by King James' scholars.
This reminded her to write her book.
Object: The Queen of Clubs