CHAPTER 63
RUTH
The church smelled different on Sunday mornings. It smelled heavily of incense, candle wax and the faint sweetness of old wood. The same smells as every other day, but somehow heavier and more sacred.
I sat in the third pew from the front, close enough to see the sweat beading on Father Isaac's forehead as he delivered his homily. I watched quietly as his hands trembles while he gripped the edges of the pupilt.
And all these was as a result of him seeing me when I walked him.
I wore my long navy skirt today, the one that fell to my ankles but had a slit that went all the way up my thigh. Thankfully, father Isaac could see me from where he was standing, so I spread my legs slowly, letting g the fabric fall open.
The cool air of the church kissed my bare thighs, tra
