It’s warm inside the monsignor’s office, unbearably warm. Avery suspects the turned up to the sauna setting. He’s surprised there aren’t any tropical plants in the corners.
And it’s dark. Avery feels as if he’s walked into a museum, it’s that dimly lit in here. The dark the sunlight. In this room, it’s neither night nor day but an indeterminable mix of both. Avery thinks that, in here, time has frozen as hard and as still as the winter ground outside.
“Mr. ,” the monsignor says in his slow drawl. Darth Vader, the students call him behind his back. Avery wonders if he knows that. He motions to the plush chairs in front of his desk, three in all. “Have a seat.”
Picking the chair on the end, Avery sinks into it and stares at the folder open on the monsignor’s desk. He can read the last
