She watched through watery glazed eyes as Miguel rose up to stand before her once more. He stood there, not two inches away yet their bodies not touc...ing. There was an almost foreboding look on his face. Mia knew what that meant.“I...I don't suppose I could get a glass of water first?” she asked with a small, nervous laugh.“That, I'm afraid,” Miguel said leaning down towards her, “Will have to wait.”As they kissed, Miguel reached down and around, picking her up. Mia wrapped her legs around. ”“OK.”Good. It’s her idea.“Is there something on your conscience?”“No. I’m just feeling devout.”“Feeling devout, huh?”So I would have to confess lying to my mom, too.Our church was built the year I was born. It’s supposed to feel like a Gothic cathedral, except without the buttresses. It’s shaped like a cross, with a high vault in the middle and stained-glass windows on every side depicting scenes from the life of Jesus, and the Virgin Mary, and a bunch of saints I could never identify. Today. More

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