It was semi-dark in the small church. It was always semi-dark, even in broad daylight. The musty smell of dust in the corners permeated the room, giving the impression of antiquity.

I had been sitting in the back pew, contemplating my relationship with God as intently as possible but couldn’t help noticing my relationship with my husband, our fight before I left to come here, seemed to take precedence. Frustrated, I picked up a Bible from the small shelf by the door and sat down to read.

A girl walked in quietly. I saw her, blue sweater with the hood drawn up around her face. She went four pews in front of me, knelt for a minute to honor the monstrance at the front of the church, then sat down. Her head, up at first, gradually began falling down toward her knees. I would have thought she was going to sleep but for the shaking of her body and the almost unconscious pulling of her shoulders into herself.

The quiet of the small chapel was broken by sniffs and then quiet sobs.