The Seat He sat down. To him a pew was a pew. A seat was a seat. Besides it had been twenty years since he had sat in a church. It was hard enough for him to walk through the doors into a sea of unfamiliar faces. Now that he had made it inside, he just walked halfway down the aisle, turned to the right and sat down on the edge of the pew. It was kind of strange to him that nobody said hello when he walked through the door. Wasn't that what they did in church? And especially now that he had found his seat. Why hadn't someone come over to speak to him, he wondered. He looked around as if to initiate some sort of eye contact with anyone. When he did, he found almost everyone looking at him, yet they would look down or look away whenever he caught their eye. And after they would look away, they would whisper to the person sitting next to them. He couldn't quite hear what they were saying. The minute that passed seemed like an hour. He must have crossed and uncrossed his legs seven times. No matter where he put his arms, they didn't feel right. He finally found a position that pleased him- his feet crossed at the ankles and both arms resting outstretched on the back of the pew. Then a voice pierced the silence. "Excuse me young man!," the elderly lady stated while poking his ribcage with her cane. "Excuse me." He was stunned. This attack had caught him by surprise. "You're sitting in my pew," she said with a voice that he heard first in his spine and then in his ear. "That's my seat, you see. I've been sitting there for twenty years!" He was just now beginning to regain his composure. "I'm sorry mam," he said getting to his feet. "I didn't know." "Well you do now." "Yes mam," he said as he stepped aside and out into the aisle, watching the lady take her seat. He stood there in the middle of the aisle, shocked by the events that had just taken place. Once again his eyes surveyed the sea of faces. This time no one looked up. Their eyes were glued to the floor. His eyes, too, slowly gazed to the floor as he turned and walked toward the doors. He had reached the doorway when he heard someone say from the pulpit, "Please turn in your hymnals to hymn number 33, People Need The Lord ." The doors closed quietly and tightly behind him, sealing off the sound of their voices. He went on his way.
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