Tap. Tap. Tap. Pastor Sullivan, lost in a comfortably worn chair and a book, looked up and cast his eyes around the room, but he was otherwise perfectly still. Not even a breath. The noise had been so faint—if there had been a noise at all—it would’ve been lost if he made any sound…

Marvin was a cosmopolitan bull, a bovine of refinement. Colloquially, most would call him a “cow.” He was born and raised outside of Muncie, Indiana, where his father instilled in him a farmer’s work ethic and an obligatory love for basketball…