Sing a song that sounds as sweet as drops of honey
WHO: Nicoleta and Ion
WHEN: January 14th, 9 PM
WHERE: Saint Andrew church
WHAT: The death anniversary of someone dear. A praying session must commence!
The realization of the day's date humbled her into bland woman. She surprised many at work with the lack of vigor - her jeering became more subtle and less striking. Those some who know her asked about her condition and she merely told them that she didn't feel well. In truth, the 14th of January is the day the young Miruna died some years ago. Nicoleta wasn't sad or distraught, but the surfacing memories were not easy to swat away. Nicoleta faintly felt a tinge of remorse, for she hardly took much action immediately after Miruna's death at that time (she was still in the Christmas mood, you see). She can remember the girl's face clearly, most certainly because her reflection walks on the earth to this day; without a doubt, it is the bereaved Ion who is in more pain. He is probably feigning a smile out there. The death of a loved one is frankly not easy to overcome. That is precisely why she felt the obligation to help him somehow.
She asked the priest prior to the day if she can reserve the place for about forty minutes. Since the both of them are friends, he kindly agreed to the reservation. Nicoleta envisioned a silent atmosphere for prayer; she also wanted it special since it will be her first time commemorating Miruna's death with Ion. Therefore, she had to throw those side thoughts in the cabinet and shove it away for the day.
Nicoleta entered the church and was greeted with harmonious silence. It was dimly lit, save for two manoualia that both held seven little candles and a faint ceiling light that was artistically illuminating the colors of the images on the deacon's doors. The ivory walls and golden tapestries were drowned in the dark chasm but it was not an ounce ghastly. Moreover, it was soothing, safe, and full of grace, where malign and evil dwell away. Donned in black, she also felt as if she was engulfed in the darkness. Nicoleta chose the third row of pews from the alter and knelt. Hands clasped, she pressed her hands against her chin. She hummed a little cheerful tune as she waited, producing a silky melody that echoed in the solemn building. Ion should be here soon.
WHEN: January 14th, 9 PM
WHERE: Saint Andrew church
WHAT: The death anniversary of someone dear. A praying session must commence!
The realization of the day's date humbled her into bland woman. She surprised many at work with the lack of vigor - her jeering became more subtle and less striking. Those some who know her asked about her condition and she merely told them that she didn't feel well. In truth, the 14th of January is the day the young Miruna died some years ago. Nicoleta wasn't sad or distraught, but the surfacing memories were not easy to swat away. Nicoleta faintly felt a tinge of remorse, for she hardly took much action immediately after Miruna's death at that time (she was still in the Christmas mood, you see). She can remember the girl's face clearly, most certainly because her reflection walks on the earth to this day; without a doubt, it is the bereaved Ion who is in more pain. He is probably feigning a smile out there. The death of a loved one is frankly not easy to overcome. That is precisely why she felt the obligation to help him somehow.
She asked the priest prior to the day if she can reserve the place for about forty minutes. Since the both of them are friends, he kindly agreed to the reservation. Nicoleta envisioned a silent atmosphere for prayer; she also wanted it special since it will be her first time commemorating Miruna's death with Ion. Therefore, she had to throw those side thoughts in the cabinet and shove it away for the day.
Nicoleta entered the church and was greeted with harmonious silence. It was dimly lit, save for two manoualia that both held seven little candles and a faint ceiling light that was artistically illuminating the colors of the images on the deacon's doors. The ivory walls and golden tapestries were drowned in the dark chasm but it was not an ounce ghastly. Moreover, it was soothing, safe, and full of grace, where malign and evil dwell away. Donned in black, she also felt as if she was engulfed in the darkness. Nicoleta chose the third row of pews from the alter and knelt. Hands clasped, she pressed her hands against her chin. She hummed a little cheerful tune as she waited, producing a silky melody that echoed in the solemn building. Ion should be here soon.