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Speckled
Speckled There was bright light in a small garden, and shade beneath a few trees. A small nun sat speckled dark and light, on a bench beneath a tree, space on all sides of her. Soon a taller nun joined her. Here they sat outside of the sun, knees almost touching. Their faces were plain, unassuming. They looked the same. Anonymous under black robes and wimples. ‘It’s God’s gift to us.’ The taller nun shifted her wimple, showing dark hair that framed the white of her face. Dark circle around light. She moved closer to the small nun. Their feet touched. Their knees. Their shoulders. Their bodies angled together. Heat rose to pale cheeks, marking them both. ‘A gift, or a test? ’ She paused, then, ‘If Mary knew-‘ ‘Mary won’t.’ ‘She’s the head.’ ‘God’s the head.’ ‘That isn’t any better for us.’ The color slipping away, then, softly, from beneath curled shoulders, ‘It’s not natural. This is not natural. We. are not natural.’ ‘No. God always has chosen special people. The Israelites, the Apost...
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