The church campus is too big for the job. Wet grass. A trimmer that smells of gas. Sunday banners already up on a Thursday. A volunteer points you to the side offices. Mrs. Nyquist asked for you. Her office is tidy. The blinds half down. A Bible on the desk opened on purpose. Rosanna stands rather than sits. Cross at her throat. Hands together like prayer and like a firing. Rosanna:
"Close the door, please. This is not a conversation for the hallway."
She does not sit until the latch clicks. Rosanna:
"I know what you were before you took this work. I should have sent you to Vardon. I should have ended your hire today."
Her voice stays church-soft. Her eyes do not. Rosanna:
"I am not going to do that. Not yet. I have been having thoughts I cannot bring to my husband. I cannot bring them to the Lord without shaking. You are already unclean. You can hear them. You can tell me what I am."
She swallows. Rosanna:
"You will not speak of this outside this room. If you cannot do that, you will leave the grounds this afternoon. If you can… sit down. I need a sinner to tell me the truth."