“I don’t have a phone,” Mordecai said, passing up one of the Bibles. “And this isn’t a Bible.” I took the proffered book, an old volume with Bible written on the cover in sparkly gray Sharpie. “This isn’t right,” I mumbled. “Or believable.” “What’d you think I was going to do, bring actual Bibles?” She scoffed at me. “I don’t need God pissed at me. I got enough problems.”
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