I liked the chapel like this: quiet and lit only by the candles on the cold November evening, incense still floating in the air. It was like its own world, instilling a sense of peace within me.

It's only as I'm clearing away the songbooks that I see a lone and pensive figure in the pews. The moonlight streams through the stained glass window, creating a scene almost like a painting. I can't help but be drawn to the picture as I walk forward slowly.

"Hello, I'm Father Miles. May I help you?"