Faith in sad places.

Across from the complex, kids played basketball in the funeral home parking lot. Every morning, sad metal cars lined up behind the foul line. In every apartment window, small faces pressed up against the glass and watched old men wipe away tears. In the kitchens, mothers smoked cigarettes and watched their ceilings stain. The walls were thin as communion wafers. No secrets were kept. Nails fell into neighbors' bedrooms. The crucifix was too heavy to hang.