Confess

My niece’s christening is tomorrow here at the cathedral.

The flight could’ve been better. I’d asked Martin to book it months ago, but my husband never does anything right, so we squeezed into coach for hours. In different rows.

I suppose you’re wondering why I’m here now at Queen Mary’s. About that. I’m not a good Catholic. Rarely go to mass. But I suppose something about coming home, about being with my parents again, coaxed me.

The priest listening to my confession helped. My sins regarding our trip weighed on me. Martin doesn’t know his suitcase contains nothing but avocados.


Picture is copyright by Samytry. (100 words)

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