Chapter 42: Contract Slave
Arthur and Newman sat on a long bench in the graveyard, facing a small, low grave with a milky-white little coffin pressed under a slate-gray stone slab.
It was a simple grave, the burial treasures inside modest too, a tiny red skirt, a wooden horse toy, a copy of "Calamity" magazine, several unopened candies, and three bunches of white roses meant to express sorrow.
Newman gazed at the shallow little grave and shook his head, "I know we are living in a remarkable era. Humanity has always been dependent on others, especially on priests to spread faith and knowledge, but now, everyone has begun to judge for themselves.
Religious freedom, religious separation, in the end, it has all boiled down to materialism. People would do anything for money. But there's no helping it, even the geniuses of this age are anti-church, not to mention the ordinary people.
But we can't blame them. As priests of the Anglican Church, we should be helping these poor and helpless people.