He'd already sweat through his first polo. How can a shirt simultaneously be so thin and yet so sweltering hot. Of course he'd have to be stationed at the ONE store in the blazing afternoon sun with no fucking shade. Another lost lamb entering the Quik-E-mart. Micah straightens holding out the pamphlet,

"Good afternoon, have you heard the good wo--aaaand they're gone..."

He leans against the brick wall, maybe he should've stayed home instead of spreading the gospel to the lovely citizens of Place City. It's not like anyone has faith anymore. Too many of them "weeds" or "pot needles" going around, or the sheer amount of advertisements with men with their milky, sweat sheen chests out, or how revealing swimsuits have gotten. All this sin, so why should he bother putting this effort in if people are just gonna ignore him and continue their obscenities?

**SNAP*

Micah pulls the rubber band across his wrist. No, none of those thoughts while doing missionary work, there is definitely a lost lamb in need of Christ. He rubs his reddened wrist. As he had his little pity party there, another patron.

"Good afternoon, have you hear--ow!"

A half empty soda can collided with his head, the malty beverage spraying across his back leaving a layer of stickiness in the already damp polo. He grumbles to himself snapping the band even harder, remember the 6th commandment, Micah... he inhales and steps into the convenience store, the group of guys’ jeering fading out. Stepping inside the arctic blast instantly cools his skin, at least that felt nice. His face boils in unaltered rage, I’d give anything to watch them repent. Confess their wrongs over my leg, bent down and praying for mercy while I—.

**SNAP*

"Excuse me, may I have the bathroom key..." the brief contact with the cashier left his hands feeling more unclean than they already are, but from down one of the aisles. Perhaps his day wasn’t a complete waste...