08.06.06
wafers
The mother had been standing (unmistakably, for in her sherbet coloured stance she could be no one else) in the middle of their path and she frowned as the boys pushed her aside.
The organ and the storm had begun at the same time and the bride’s march was accompanied by the sound of thunder outside of high stonewalls. The soft scraping of the rubber sneakers of her new wedding guests bounced off of the walls, whispering to her as she walked to the nave. They, like the vacant eyes of the saints around her, watched as she knelt. They, like the marble pope praying in dim candle light, listened to the faint crinkling of her dress against the stool’s velvet.
Then, all at once, the gates had shut.
shi-ou-sama at