AERIS
I was still adjusting the black veil over my hair when the doorbell rang. My mother had already warned me that Father Ronan would stop by to check on her after Mass.
I stayed in the hallway, half-hidden behind the curtain, watching him step inside. His black cassock brushed the floor, the white collar stark against his throat. He carried a small leather bag and that familiar scent of incense clung to him like a second skin.
Mother greeted him warmly, offered tea, and they spoke for a few minutes in the living room.
I heard the low rumble of his voice, the polite questions about her health, the gentle blessings. Then she mentioned needing to borrow sugar from Mrs. Ellison next door. She left without calling for me, and the front door clicked shut behind her.
I thought I was alo
