Years in every circle.
Wherever trust gathers, he found a seat.
He learned the handshake.
Memorized the hymn.
Spoke the language of belonging
without ever belonging.
But the body knows what the mind excuses.
One by one, the doors stopped opening.
The invitations thinned.
The seats beside him emptied
without a word spoken.
Now he walks alone.
Not because we cast him out.
Because we finally stopped letting him in.
Evil does not announce itself.
It circulates.
It adapts.
It wears whatever wool the room requires.
But the herd always knows.
And eventually,
the herd stops pretending it doesn't.
He still lives next door.
But the wool is on the ground now.
And we do not look away.