Leah glanced wearily at the stick, the holy object that Jesus was crucified on, in her hand, the one with the tiny oyster inside it. An absurd, incomprehensible joke of fate. How it ended up in her hands, how it had so many opportunities to be discarded or lost along the way. The more she looked at it, the more confused she became. The only thing she knew for sure was that she had to give it back to Baltasar.