Paula’s throat tightened. She had undressed in locker rooms, in marriage, in hospital gowns. But undressing for God —or for whatever spirit moved through these ancient trees—felt like unzipping her soul.
It would demand forgiveness.
One by one, people threw their objects into the flames. The ring sizzled. The photograph curled. The report card turned to gold-edged memory. Paula’s throat tightened
But that is a story for another dawn.
When it was Paula’s turn, her throat closed again—but not from fear. From a strange, rising tenderness. Paula’s throat tightened