My head snapped up. ‘I can’t tell the court that Shay will find Jesus,’ I said. ‘I think he might be Jesus.’ She blinked. ‘You think what?’ The words began to spill out of me, the way I always imagined it felt to be speaking in tongues: truths that tumbled before you even realized they’d left your mouth. ‘It makes perfect sense. The age, the profession. The fact that he’s on death row. The miracles. And the heart donation – he’s literally giving himself away for our sins, again. He’s giving the part that matters the least – the body – in order to become whole in spirit.’ ‘This is way worse
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