Ronald thinks I'm lying when I say the priest isn't in here. He's friendly enough, dressed professionally, doesn't smell like alcohol. He wants to see the priest, he says, but I think he wants money. The priest really isn't in his office, and I'm just sitting on a bench trying to eat my lunch in the sun before the garden is engulfed in the shadows by the skyscrapers again.
"Ok, I'm going to stop playing games, here. Can I just have three dollars?"
I look in my wallet. It's empty. "Sorry, I don't have any cash on me."
"Sorry. What's there to be sorry for? I just don't believe certain people. Certain people who say they're believers but can't even spare three dollars."
I am pretty sure I'm one of those certain people. Ronald leaves and I think of rude things I could have said as I write down his words for later use.