For Faith - a graphic novella

I walked upstairs. I
exited the station. The
sky was blue and the
air was brisk and the
world was real again. I
gathered what I needed
from my surroundings.
miraculously, I knew
where I was.
I saw poverty and those who
thrived despite it. This side of the
neighborhood was not brought up,
it was not for show, but it was so,
brutally, beautifully real. My whole
body jolted when I saw Classon avenue
- I knew I was one beeline away from
bursting into a class well under way to
beg for forgiveness like a priest on a
dusty altar. But I knew that, at least the
bones beneath my skin, the brain inside
my skull, the feet that moved me so -
they would all remain.
I walked. I looked up. I took
off my headphones. I knew it
would be an admittedly less
reasonable 20 minutes until I
arrived at my class. But I knew
I would arrive. Along the way,
I saw a group of old friends
meet for the first time in a
long time. I was given the most
genuine “excuse me sir” and
“thank you” I had received in at
least five years.
So what would I ever
need to complain about?