Microfiction Day 147 – ‘Heaviness’

Whenever she walked into a cathedral she felt oddly heavy.

When she was younger she thought it was the weight of guilt, pressing her down and telling her she didn’t belong.

But now she recognised it as the weight of history, of the songs sung beneath stone towers, the words of promise spoken at altars, the bittersweet goodbyes embedded in masonry.

Now when she walked into a cathedral she did so with paper and sharpened pencils in her bag, ready to listen for the stories hiding in the dancing dust motes, to write the tales captured in the stained glass.