You found a church for us to attend. It was just right for us, you figured. Half the sanctuary was a traditional church, and half was this pantheistic humanist library thing. You brought flowers for the minister.
"Welcome to our church," said the minister, facing the church.
He turned around and faced the library. "Welcome to our library," he said.
You lay the flowers at his feet. It seemed like the wrong thing. He looked back towards the altar. Everyone there was upset because a transformer box had exploded the week before and killed the head usher, or taught him a lesson. I couldn't remember the morning after.