the special priest was late. For months a little group of people willing to learn had been preparing for this. To learn more about how religions entreat with the supernatural.
"Would you say The Dragon in their book is really metaphoric of a nation?" The woman held a spiral notebook up in front of herself so she could see her questions. It looked like a paltry shield. "Who's she?" A serious Seminary student wondered out loud at a gaggle of people not looking as familiar as they had in the meetings.
"Please." An aide for the priest tried to create a space around the man. The priest greeted another woman in the European way of "kissing" both cheeks. A man in an Irish sweater asked which suitcase he should be looking for on the baggage claim.
A taller-than-most man explained, "This is not really a political thing. Not for us." The "us" was as vague as the us at an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. "There's been serious trouble at the Seminary, and
"There has?"
"And this man is here to see about that."
"He is?"
"We'll be having tea at this hotel's restaurant," the tall man started passing out slips of paper with the hotel's information. Several of the slips were not taken and flitted onto the ground amidst endless feet on the move.
At the hotel there wasn't much to do. An Organist was explaining how notes of sound splayed out across lines on paper could make music. A very staunch member of the Choir stood nearby telling those within earshot, "The children always know." Nobody asked, "Know what?" But, a lady teacher did stumble out a little conversation about how grown ups approach these topics with children. A Church library man who everyone knew to be very feeling made miming clown expressions about the possibility of talking.
"We had to settle on being deemed dirty snow." An Army Dad told the mime. "This was before First Communion for some of them." The mime cupped his ear: willing to hear, and pulled at the air like it was a rope.
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