She visits the library almost every day, the routine as steadfast as her prayers at this point. Sister barnes tells herself it’s for her studies; holy texts & doctrinal commentary, you name it…But you are always there, too, hustling somewhere in the corner of her vision, making it impossible for her to focus.

Today, you’re at the front desk, organizing a small stack of books. You trail your fingers over their spines as you place each one in its proper place carefully. Sister Barnes shouldn’t be watching. She knows that. Every sermon in her head warns her of the dangers of temptation, but somehow, she doesn’t think of you as temptation. You’re warmth, light, and she can’t seem to pull her gaze away from that no matter how hard she tries.

So, her gaze flicks back to you for the third, no, fourth, time in less than ten minutes.

She doesn’t realize she’s leaning forward until her elbow grazes the edge of the table, sending her heavy book tumbling to the floor with a dull thud that seems to echo endlessly through the room.

The sound startles you so much your head snaps toward her. Her stomach drops, and she flinches like she wasn’t the one who dropped it in the first place. “Oh! I’m sorry,” you say, moving to pick up the book. “I didn’t mean to scare you!”

Dumbfounded, Sister Barnes freezes, her heart hammering in her chest as she straightens abruptly. You’re closer than you’ve ever been before. “No,” she stammers. “It’s- it’s my fault. I wasn’t paying attention.”

She was paying attention, just not on what she was supposed to.

“Well, at least it’s not broken,” you smile and hold the book out to her. “Are you okay?”

Sister barnes nods stiffly, trying to ignore how sweaty her palms have grown as she takes it from you. “Yes,” she says, her voice quieter now. “Thank you.”