Missionary Attire

AN: All characters in this story are at least 18 years old.

“The nerve of that man!”

Emily looked up as her mom, Catherine swung open the front glass door in a huff. Her parent said absently as she clacked by in her nice black heels, “Dear if you’re going to pretend to be sick to dodge church and claim that you’re working on homework, best that you don’t use that Switch, game thing, at the dinner table. Just as well I suppose,” her voice trailed off as she crept up the stairs, “that new church is insane. We are never going there again.”

Behind her the rest of the local family trailed in, Daniel along with the 2nd daughter, Samantha. Both twin sons, John and Matthew, picked up the rear. Lastly, Michelle, the adopted daughter, picked up the rear. Her dark, black skin standing out in stark contrast with the rest of the Caucasian crowd. All of them dispersed into the house with rather strained, strange faces.

As they parted around her, Emily raised an eyebrow, and muttered under her breath, “Figures, first interesting morning service and I missed it.”