ALICE F CROSS

 
 
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Short Story for @the.story.seed

https://www.instagram.com/p/B-ty3AWpsTN/


He always helped his Grandma clean the church on a Saturday morning. This Saturday morning was particularly beautiful. He sat, just for a minute, on the bench he was dusting. The sun streamed through the window, caressing his neck and making him feel warm. He wanted to get outside. The room glowed and dust danced gracefully into the beams of light. He asked himself, or maybe he was asking God, ‘why do we shut out the world to worship in here, when it's so beautiful outside?’ His faith seemed to be getting more confusing recently.


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