I am not Worthy

She sat outside our auditorium. She sat in a folding chair, practically doubled over as if she was in pain. She rocked and rocked. Little did I know that she had a gun in her purse.

She was deeply troubled. She had been an alcoholic for many years. That night her eyes were bloodshot. I presumed she had been drinking. I approached her and she said that she wanted to remain outside the auditorium in the hallway.
“I am not worthy.”