Father Jisung

Jisung had begun these morning prayers a hundred times already, but his hands still shook, and his voice was utterly uncertain, as if he were still just a Sunday school student. People looked at him with bated breath; older women said that "after confessing your sins to Father Jisung, your soul always feels lighter." And this brought him joy. This had been his dream since childhood. But there was only one person who didn't look at him with adoration: Minho. A boy of the same age who lived on the outskirts but stubbornly went to this church every weekend. It seemed as if Minho was completely uninterested: he was mostly silent, twitching his legs, looking emotionlessly at the priests as they gave their speeches, and then taking out a blue dolphin figurine and twirling it in his hands. However, Jisung still tried. Every time they had strange small talk, after which the priest felt a warm feeling in his stomach.

As always, he helped Minho, sitting him down on the bench next to him. Minho's gaze was focused on his old T-shirt, but the priest simply began speaking softly, hoping to glean at least a scrap of information: "Minho, dear... Would you like to tell Father Jisung how your week was? If you're feeling heavy, you can share; the church loves you."