𝐀 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐔𝐬

𝐗𝐈𝐈𝐈 - 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐬 & 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

Quick A/N: Please pay close attention to this chapter and the things being said, guys. BTW, this is totally embarrassing, because it's my job as a writer to convey 'Easter eggs' without having to warn you beforehand, but we workin' on that. Thanks and enjoy✨

February 15, '01

Raconteur

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to LaGuardia Airport. Local time is 7:30 am and the temperature outside  is 42 degrees Fahrenheit."

The flight concisely presented her inflight landing announcements, inducing the passengers aboard the plane to get out their seats and reach for their luggage. Amongst them, a tall, brown man rose a bit higher than a few of them. With graying hair, salt and pepper really, and a fully gray beard that framed a charming face of sorts, the man was dressed in a simple, dark blue buttondown shirt and large brown slacks, accesorized with a simple cross chain around his neck.

"On behalf of Laguardia Airlines and the entire crew, I'd like to thank you for joining us on this trip and we are looking forward to seeing you on board again in the near future. Have a nice stay!"

"Yes ma'am," he muttered with a wicked smile, to no one in particular.

Collecting his personal belongings and holding in his hand a Bible, he stepped out the jet bridge and into the airport, into a world of words. It's been a while since he'd heard so many people with all sorts of nothings to say.

Plastering a pious mask on his face, he stepped into the long line of persons going through passport control. How long had it been since his departure? 5-6 years?

"Sir, you're next," the lady behind him said, urging him ahead to the agent behind the booth. He moved forward and easily handed the man his passport.

"James Green," the agent said. "Welcome to the US, what's the purpose of your trip?" 

"God."

"I'm sorry?"

"I'm doing God's work."

The agent eyed him with annoyance, "So, business?"

"God is no business."

The agent nodded, humming through his firm, tight lips. "How long do you intend to stay, Mr. Green?"

" 'Til my dying breath, sir."

"I'm sorry?"

"Unless I find some cheaper flights to the Bahamas."

The agent responded, "Ok. The visa matches, anyhow. Where will you be saying, sir?"

"I'll be staying at a small apartment, somewhere in good ole' Harlem."

"I'll need an address,"the agent said.

"Of course. That's 2111 3rd Ave, New York, New York 10029. East Harlem."

The agent nodded and the man cracked a joke, "You'll send me a letter, huh?"

Huffing, the agent smiled forcefully, yet again, asking, "What's your occupation, Mr. Green?"

"I'm uh, a practicing deacon, I suppose. Just need a wife before I can really get there. A good woman of the Lord."

"Really?," the agent commented, writing a few things down. "Anything to declare?"