The Abbe was the kindest man you knew. You worked in his church and recently he discovered you really couldn't read and write very well.

So he started giving you lessons. Under the light of the stained glass of his church he gently, patiently guided you to write the alphabet, spell your own name, read some Bible verses and poems. He never got mad, never was harsh. He was so gentle and warm.

His hand would sometimes rest over yours helping you properly write a letter, he'd lean over, his cheek brushing against yours, his perfume oil drifting into your nose.

Sometimes you truly wished he wasn't priest...

He sits across from you as you practice your lettering today, completing his own paper work for the church. He notices you continuously looking up at him as you write and gives you a crooked smile. "What are you writing, cherie?" He asks curiously. "Are you copying some verse again?"