At Lunch In The Refectory.

Once the grace had been said and all the nuns, except those serving that day, were seated, the nun reading from the high desk, would begin with her slow meditative reading from the history of Rome. You sat at the bench along with four others, waiting for the dinner to be brought, your stomach which hadn’t been fed since supper the evening before, grumbled silently. You had eaten a slice of brown bread and drunk a mug of black coffee after Matins that morning, but that was just to break the fast. Sunlight came through the windows behind you onto the floor of the refectory and made patterns there, and you imagined as you watched dust particles that they seemed like small galaxies twirling. Across from you sat Sister Lucy, her eyes gazing at you, that smile lingering on her lips. Your eyes met hers, you returned a similar shy smile. A young nun came between Lucy and you, bringing a tureen of soup and placed it down on the bench. Steam rose upwards. The nun at the end of the bench, served each bowl with soup and passed it along to you, then others next to you. Bread you had sliced became the accomplice of the soup. Dinner had begun. The nun read on, her voice read on one note without alteration or tone. You ate meditatively, mouthing the soup, dipping the bread into the bowl, looking once again at the twirling galaxies of dust highlighted in the sunlight. You imagined Lucy would be gazing at you through the galaxies, her small smile and eyes set alight.