She touched her hand to the cool stone and wondered at all of the people who had done the same thing before her. Nearly a thousand years of hidden handprints, of unremarkable people made remarkable in her head.
Because she could see them all when she closed her eyes. The Norman abbot with a scar on his cheek that held secrets. The young artist, seeking inspiration for a masterpiece. The chorister, his voice choked with pleurisy. The woman, hiding herself beneath a cloak in a space where she wasn’t welcome.
She withdrew her hand. Brushed the tears from her cheeks.
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