My friends and I are in an on-again/off-again writing club where the rules are simple. Every two weeks you have to submit three short stories that it took you 20 minutes or less to write. These are the results.

Does God Know You’re Gay?

When I saw you, I knew right away that you were gay. Slight build and boyish face aside, you just had that air about you. I sat next to you on the plane and then fell asleep without giving it a second thought. I live in San Francisco, where being around gay people is as common as Asians and crazy homeless people.

When I awoke halfway through the flight, however, and started to take in the details of you, the gayness which you exude became much more interesting to me. You were reading a Christian newspaper – quite flamboyantly, I might add – and in the seat pocket in front of you was a book on being a better pastor. Then I looked at your clothes, your immaculately white shirt and pressed khakis. Holy shit, you’re a priest.

Does God know you’re gay? Does he care? Do you tell him your secrets in your prayers? Is it something you share in confidence from the rest of the parish? Or do you hide it from him? Do you hide it from yourself?

Or…and this is a big or…are the mannerisms of a priest not at the pulpit similar to those of a sedate gay man? This could very well be, but I never got to find out. You ignored me for the entire flight because you were too busy talking to the lady next to you about how ways she could convince her husband to do laundry more often and try more exotic foods.