The door to the church is not only unlocked, but is wide open, even letting some of the snow drift in over the blood-red carpet.
“Oh, your feet must be wet!,” a busty brunette says loudly as she comes out of the dark sanctuary, “Let me take your heel guardians for you!”
By this, you guess she means your socks and shoes and allow her to replace them with a silver bowl of hot water to place your feet in while you sit down on a bench next to a brochure rack.
“You must be worn out from your peregrination!”
You don’t know what that word means; you can only conjure up an image of being dressed up as a Peregrine Falcon.
“Uh, yes, I am…tired.”
“Then you should loosen that tension,” she says as she’s dropping aromatic salts into the water that turn its color purple then orange then green, sort of like the horse in The Wizard of Oz. Shaking your head to counteract the smells and colors coming from below, you peruse the brochures to your left. Their titles range from “The Coming of the Golden Dawn” to “What are Theosophists?” to “The Baha’i Faith and Your Religion” to “Which Path is Opened by Solomon’s Key?”
All of this has had a dizzying effect on you and you try to break it by speaking up, “Actually I came inside to–,” you’re bluntly cut off by the woman.
“Is that your baby?”
Go to page 167.
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