9
Gabriel.
Guilt is a steady drumbeat that won’t stop pounding, no matter how many times I try to silence it. It sits under my skin, pulses in my veins, makes every moment feel like I’m holding my breath underwater. This morning, after Mara slips out of the rectory; hair wild, lips bitten, face flushed with the triumph of secrets, I sit at my desk with my head in my hands, every part of me aching for something I know I shouldn’t want. I thought sin would feel sharp and electric. I didn’t expect it to feel so heavy.
The church is busy all day: parishioners with questions, committees with complaints, Mrs. Dunn popping in and out with her sharp eyes and sharper tongue. I go through the motions, blessing, nodding, reciting, but inside I am raw and restless. Everything reminds me of Mara. T
