Marybeth cringed, her head jerking right, bleating in terror as she mentally braced herself for a blinding flash of light. A dark-clothed figure was extending something out to her. It took a moment for it to dawn on Marybeth that not only had no picture been taken, but neither was the proffered object a camera.
“Hello, child,” the nun intoned. Marybeth was surprised; there was no condemnation in the nun’s voice, only sympathy. “I am Sister Miriam, from St. Isidore’s,” she explained, indicating the ancient and weathered cathedral down the street.
“You’re n-not going to s-s-slut-tag me?” Marybeth asked, incredulous.
The nun started at the word “slut”, but maintained her calm air. “No, child,” she said, pressing the pamphlet into Marybeth’s hand. “I am only here to say this: Everyone makes mistakes. Please don’t compound it with another.”
The nun began to walk off. Marybeth watched her for a second, then turned her attention to the pamphlet. After reading it, she slowly began to walk towards St. Isidore’s.