peccatore | Marco's Heart

Marco's Heart

You find yourself in a bright white, circular room. It's nearly empty; too bare, almost clinically so. But the bareness of it means that what is visible here stands out:

A podium in the center, where a familiar figure sits, head buried in his hands. Three paths running from the podium to three different spots near the edges of the room - not corners; circles don't have corners - where three doors leading seemingly nowhere stand with no regard for their complete lack of structural support.

It doesn't take you long to figure out where you are, does it? You only have to decide where to start.

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... He's probably going to sit like this and sob quietly for a bit.

[will hold him]

[after a while] If there's more you want me to see, I will. But... Marco, none of this will change my opinion of you and what I feel you need. And it's all stuff you can tell me in person if you'd like. So there's a big part of me that thinks it's more important to just sit here with you now.

"T-That's... That's very kind of you. So kind... You're so kind."

He sobs again, once or twice.

"I... I don't remember the last time I confessed, you know." A pause. "Which-- Which doesn't necessarily mean anything, given-- given our situation. But."

I can't tell you to go confess. But I can say that I think it'd be good for you. My job is to remind people that there is no such thing as a sin that can't be forgiven by God, and help you find a way to move forward here among the rest of us. You know? I want to help get some of that weight off your chest so you're not pinned down by it.

"... Do you... really believe that?"

Yeah. I do. There's no asterix on redemption and no list of exemptions. I have to believe I chose this weird path for myself because I seriously believe that someone needs to say it with their whole chest.