Wanting Sister Margaret
Although I’m supposed to close my eyes and pray to the Lord, I’m looking at Sister Margaret beside me. Her skin is so perfect, like fine porcelain. My hands quiver with the desire to touch it.
She opens her eyes, catching me in the act of improperly staring at her. I blush. I think she’s about to scold me for not praying like everyone else, but she just gives me a little smile.