The pavement was freezing. Samantha’s right knee was screaming at her to finish and she was grumbling at herself for wearing a skirt.
She completed tying her shoe and she pushed herself upright with her prosthetic arm. Her knee was so relieved of the cold and discomfort of the cement she said “Amen”.
“Ohhhh…” a voice said. It sounded sweet but rather orgasmic for a city street.
Samantha turned to the voice.
It belonged to an older woman in a knit hat with a Pekingese on a jeweled leash.
“...it’s so refreshing to see someone of your generation praying at the creche.”
It took Samantha a second to realize the woman was referring to the manger scene, the small diorama of the birth of the baby Jesus.
Samantha had noticed it when she first knelt in front of the church to tie her shoe.
The ceramic work was pathetic, though she thought the artist had done a decent job on the muscle structure of the donkey.
“Oh, I wasn’t praying,” she said, “just tying my shoe.”
The woman’s smile dropped like a cartoon villain had hit her on top of the head with a mallet.
Samantha didn’t regret her atheism, but she did regret opening her mouth and hurting the woman’s feelings.
As if it was a critique of her statement, the Pekingese took a dump on the small patch of grass by the church steps.
It was Christmas Eve. Samantha could feel guilt knotting in her much faster than her shoelace had. She was smart enough to quit while she was behind but compassionate enough to try.
“But, ummm, I really would pray to it...ummm…”
The woman looked at her with neon skepticism.
“... to Mary...you know...because I think that whole virgin birth thing is kinda righteous.”
***
Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash
reminds me of raymond chandler. nice.
Good stuff.