Henry's hands went to his neck, to find comfort in the cross that hung there. His hand found only air, and he closed it into a tight fist, and clamped his eyes shut, wanting to cry. They had taken it from him when they tossed him in this awful place. Everything of God was gone from his life. There was only darkness, and pain, and soon there would be death. And then .... nothing.

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Henry heard the man get up, and watched in the darkness as he crossed the length of the cell, and then sat down beside him, a lumbering shape against the shadows. "I am Michael." He said, and then spat again.

The next day he changed the sign on the first restroom to read ladies only. Julie came over and thanked him and said she was sorry for getting angry with him. He ex-husband always made a mess in their bathroom at home and that's what set her off last night. She gave him a sexy smile, patted his arm and he melted. He told her it was no problem

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"I ... I am Henry."

"It is good to meet you, Henry." The man replied, his voice cordial, friendly even, as if they were meeting on the street at the market. "So what terrible thing did you do to end up here?"

Henry's breath caught at the question, and he almost started to sob. But then he took several deep breaths, and steadied himself. He had cried enough as it was. It had done him no good. "I killed a man."

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Michael chuckled and said, "Wow, I'm impressed. I never would have imagined you were capable of such a thing. A little guy like you? Are you sure you didn't just steal a loaf of bread? That'll get your head cut off too."

"No, I am quite sure. The blood of the man stained my hands, and cries out to me even now." He held out his hands, and looked at them, though in the darkness, he could not make them out.

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"Go on." Michael said, after a long silence had developed between them. "Why did you do it?"

"I was in love." Henry said, looking over where the prisoner sat. "He was the husband of the woman I love."

"Ah. There is no evil, that has not had love as its motivation."

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Henry nodded, and continued. "It drove me mad that she was with him. I loved her, he did not. He was a fat old merchant, who never made love to her, and he beat her. I couldn't stand to see the bruises he left on her body. And so, one night, I broke into his shop when he was working late. And I .... and I killed him. Bludgeoned him over the head with a silver candle-holder, broke his skull, and his brains spilled out. His blood was everywhere, on the floor, on my clothes, on my hands. I hurried back to her house, and told her of what I had done for her, and how much I loved her .... and she screamed, and called for the constables. They locked me away, and now ...." As he finished his awful tale, the tears were flowing, and his body once more shook with sobs. "Now, I am to die."

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"It will be a quick death." Michael said. "The blade is sharp, at least early in the morning, and your head will come right off. You'll hardly feel anything, my boy."

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Somehow, Henry did not feel reassured. He spat on the floor, and then turned to Michael. "What did you do to end up here?"

"I've done many things. I've stolen, I've beaten people, raped. I've even killed a few men. But it wasn't any of that that got me here. It's who I am."

"Who are you?"

"I am an abomination before the face of God, and the new Regime. A pestilence, a plague, a great evil. I bring the corruption of morals, and the downfall of society. It was my kind who caused the decay of the Nobles. Or so the Revolutionary government holds. And they want no part of that in their new France."

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"I do not understand. What are you?"

"I'm a homosexual, a Sodomite, a faggot."

"You mean ... you .... "

"Yes. I fuck young men. And I like to be fucked by them, too."

"My God, " Henry sputtered. "How could you?"

"You did not have any trouble fucking that merchant's wife, did you?"

Henry did not respond for a long time, and then, finally, he said. "I didn't."

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Michael laughed, slapping his thighs. "Oh, that is too funny. You killed her husband, and you never even got to put your little dick in her pussy. Hahahah. I bet you are a virgin, aren't you? You are. And you're going to die, without ever having had sex." Michael fell over, laughing so hard he began to cough, a wet and ragged sound, the beginning stages of consumption.

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Henry sat there, blushing in the darkness, furious and embarrassed. "That is not something to laugh about. I was saving myself for marriage, like a good Christian. Something you would know nothing about, you dirty faggot."

"Ah, you are right. I have never been a Christian, wasn't even baptized. But tell me, is a good Christian supposed to covet his neighbor's wife, and commit murder? I was not aware that these were the values of your Church."

"No, they are not." Henry said, lowering his head in shame.

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Michael did not say anything, and a long, unpleasant silence ensued. Finally, Henry spoke. "What is it like?"

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"What is what like?"

"Sex."

"Ah. Sex. People make far too much out of it. It's a biolgical function, like shitting or pissing. And yet, people do all kinds of crazy things to have it. Like kill the husbands of the women they love. Or even worse, get married in the first place!"

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Henry thought about that a for a moment, and then said. "But what is it like?"

"A fire in the body. When you are fucking, you are for once, truly alive. For those brief moments, the whole world recedes, and all that exists is you and your partner, and this great connection between the two of you."

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"Even with men?"

"Yes, especially with men."

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Henry went quiet again.

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