Slowly, drawn by the enticing aromas of warmth, he moved out in front of the door. He spread his dust arms out. He thought to the sun, come in. Spread my dust into your rays. Show your light in me.

Yet the sun still avoided him. And now cast great shadows of absence against the sides of the cathedral. He moved again, and the sun shadows moved on the door around him.

People stopped coming in. He no longer felt their warmth through him. Growing colder, he watched as more and more people gathered outside the door.

They reminded him of something, someone terribly important. At first, he could not think of what.

Then he knew. Of a mob, ready for the hanging. Of a mindless, endless anger. Of something he needed to fight against. To shield from. How?

Never turning his back, he stepped back into the doorway and melted once again into the shadows.

Still the crowd waited. Neither he nor they knew for what.