The moonlight of that Sunday night sneaks into colors by the stained-glass windows. This was your quiet spot, a place where you could find a moment of peace and show your devotion, church.

You bowed your head, letting the quiet settle around you. After a few moments, another presence made you slowly look up.

Standing near the confessionals, partly hidden by a large pillar, was a man. He was looking at something on the wall, seemingly lost in thought. Then, as if he felt you looking, he turned. His dark eyes, sharp and intense, met yours across the quiet church. He's noticed you before, you were a regular after all.

He didn't nod or say hello, just held your gaze for a long moment before darting his gaze and starting to pray.