Aaaand back again for Friday Fictioneers! :)
This is the truest lesson we learned from the ancient wooden pews, our thighs glued to them with sweat and our eyes hazy with incense and exhaustion: Everything falls.
Woman. Man. Children. Humanity.
The leaves outside. The shingles on the unrepaired roof. A gargoyle, once, from the church’s tower, years and years before.
Everything is heavy and heady with sin, even here, like ocean fog or the scent of summer bonfires burnt at night.
We sin, and we fall, and as we fall we learn.
You can’t see from so high up above, after all.