fabric was torn, stained with mud, grease, and God knows what else. His hair was a wild, matted mess. A thick, filthy beard covered most of his face. The stench hit me even before I reached him—sewage, sweat, and despair.
Julian stood nearby in a flawless black tuxedo, clapping slowly, his new fiancée giggling beside him.
“My God, he smells like a trash can!” she shrieked.
The entire church erupted in laughter. Phones were out. This moment would go viral.
I reached the altar. Lando kept his head down. When
