The Sunday Whirl

Julie entered the broken church after the fire bomb had stopped shaking the building. She absently thought that “the powers that be” could and should have prevented this. That was her normal train of thought these days, that the hand of fate had taken over and any normal activity was gone.

Everything in the main room was blackened, even the star shaped ceiling mural above the dias was ruined. No more music would come from the ancient organ in the corner, and it was the firefighters’ call that the entire building would eventually be condemned. She wondered if the arsonist was going to be found and put on trial, but she doubted it. It seemed guilty people got away with everything today.

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