“We live in a promise,” Paul stands triumphantly. Starting with what was a couple friends has turned into a gathering. A mob. Paul barely stands among the waves, people pushing and pulling. Hair flapping and snapping. “We live in a promise,” Paul repeats,
“… we were promised this sin.”
“We were promised soo much more. Also.”
Tilting his hands, one atop the other, a triangle forms. He turns it upside down. Then motions, like he is tapping, and pulls upon invisible levers.
Everyone thought he would say more sin, that we were promised more sin.