Sundays
One of the things Stephanie loved most about living in the Foxberry was her Sunday morning stroll to church. She walked alone, listening to the birds softly singing and the leaves crunching beneath her toes. It was calming, meditative if you will. This morning, everyone stared. Her ear-to-ear smile made her stand out like a parrot among ravens. What was there to be so excited about on such a dreary Sunday morning? Other than the pizza specials, of course. Eyes followed her as she walked down Effugium Boulevard, but Stephanie brushed it off, attributing their gazes to her bright red hair or height. She was early, entering an almost-empty sanctuary. She exchanged soft smiles with the minister as he rehearsed today’s sermon. Stephanie shrugged off her coat and made her way downstairs to the nursery. “Hi Olivia,” she said as she stepped into the room. Olivia turned around, Lysol and paper towels in gloved hands. “Stephanie! I’m so glad you’ll be joining us this morning,” Olivia said. “The ...