she studied it â the mosaic glass stained and marred by cracks depicting the devastation. the son of god nailed to the cross, anguish bestowed upon his features, and a slew of figures crowded before him. ten years ago jodie wouldâve paid no mind to it, she hadnât, often saw it as just another gaudy display. for a place that prided itself in being the best they fell short on upkeep. maybe the evening was just a ploy to rack up enough to replace the window ... with an inviting sunrise, no doubt. clear tape still sealed a shard of the pane in place â one peeled back time and time again by the deviant to funnel her smoke. after word got out of an âaromaâ lingering from the restrooms, jodie had to get creative. apparently creative enough that even after all this time no one seemed to notice.Â
cigarette sat idle between ringed fingers, attention fixed on a woman knelt before the cross, head in her hands and draped in crimson red. her own hand dropped to smooth over the silk slip dress of the same color. a bit darker, jodie never one for flashiness, and clinging to her frame like a second skin. yet it wasnât the dress that felt constricting, no, but a crashing wave of realization that rendered her still. for a moment, she saw herself in that woman, she saw her classmates in that crowd. it wasn't a cross, it was a flowing current. like that very scene, they all watched chris die âŠÂ disappear. only he didn't do it for their sins, they'd pay for those. technically they already started to.
movement eventually pulled her from her own head ( thank god ), quick drag from her cig before, â you going to sell me out to the headmistress ? â deadpanned as if she hadnât just grappled with an internal revelation, jodie finally turned only to be met with a familiar face. â nick, â shouldâve known it'd be him, always was one to catch her in a moments of seclusion. â enjoying yourself this evening ? â a beat, â seem to be. you know if i hadn't known, i would've thought you tried your hand at a career in politics. â