The House of Worship was the grandest building in the town, standing tall in a town of ranch housing. Father Garrison heaved open the double doors to the House lobby, letting a breeze into the cool church. The candles needed lighting. He stood in the open for one last breath of sweet summer air, then turned inward. He made his way into the nave of the House, walking down the aisle. He stopped, cocking his head to listen to the echo of his footsteps. There were more than just his. “Sister Mara. Is it the first of the month already?”