The door squeaked loudly behind me as it closed and briefly masked the slow tap-tapping of my feet on the perfectly polished tiles as I walked in.
The silence was illuminating. I could count my heartbeat, I could follow my breath. I could touch my thoughts, every last curious one.
I walked down the aisle, flanked by pews beyond my years. It hit me, gently then stopped, gently then stopped again. The sunshine effortlessly forced itself through the stained glass of the cathedral and lit my way.
I was at the altar now. Breathing.
Then I screamed.
And I cried.