Gemotions

The afternoon sun streamed through the stained-glass windows of the church, painting the pews in vibrant hues. Father Michael surveyed the sanctuary, a sense of familiarity washing over him. The scent of incense, the echoing silence, the comforting weight of tradition – all things that anchored him.

A card lay on his desk, an unexpected offering. It was from Thomas, a former parishioner and student. The card contained a generous donation to the church. He ran his hand through his hair. He knew he was doing good work.