ArchivedLogs:Vignette - Queen of Martyrs
| Vignette - Queen of Martyrs | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | 2016-01-03 Ghost Emoji |
| Location
<NYC> Queens - Our Lady Queen of Martyrs | |
Home to the New York Mets and thus a fierce rivalry among baseball fans, Queens is the largest of New York's boroughs in size, and the most ethnically diverse urban area in the worlds. Many of the different neighborhoods in Queens reflect that diversity, and the various cuisines found throughout often are in keeping with the traditional backgrounds of the residents there. Though it boasts a sizable congregation, Our Lady Queen of Martyrs is no grand cathedral. Even in the winter chill, bulky air-conditioner units jutt out of the windows that overlook its great double-doors and flank an inlaid statuette of its patron. A shabby garden by way of shrubberies in terracotta pots line the main walkway, and most of its worshippers are not of a particularly sophisticated variety. Inside, the Newetner family sits by dutifully as mass drones on. The trio attract a great deal of curious glances from their fellow parishioners, under which Mr. and Mrs. Newetner glow. However, their daughter can only glower. Tiffany, as she appears, fidgets and shifts her weight in the uncomfortable pew. She sits for as long as she can under the watchful eye of the congregants and terrifying overhead portrayal of the crucified Christ. She sits and stews, until she can no longer. Pressing her palms against the cold wooden slab beneath her, she slips to her feet. Hidden just out of sight, Sergio looks through the young woman’s eyes. He feels with her fingertips, and when he moves his own limbs, hers do the same. Although non-religious, he can bear the weight of his own guilt in such a holy place no longer. As he makes his way down the nave past the rows and rows of pews, he keeps his eyes trained to the ground. Closing the door quietly behind him, he pauses to brace against the wall and regain his composure. Fluttering his lashes, he doubles up on his efforts and makes it into the lady’s room. There in the mirror, Tiffany’s face stares back at him instead of his own. He splashes water on her face. “Hey, /you’re that girl/,” a young woman comes up from one of the stalls to wash her hands. She pops her gum, and Sergio can’t help but think that she doesn’t look so different from Tiffany. “Uh,” Sergio stammers, offering little more than wide eyes and a subtle shake of the head, “I guess.” “That’s wild. Everybody was praying for you. I’m glad you’re okay,” the girl regards Tiffany with a skeptical once over as she dries her hands. She turns her attention down to her phone, which Sergio hones in on. “Yeah, thanks,” he mumbles distractedly. He hasn’t had access to a computer or phone since this ordeal started. Reaching out with Tiffany’s small hand, he gestures, “Could I like, see your phone for a second?” When the girl looks a little surprised by this, Sergio pouts and explains with a barely convincing lie, “Mine is dead.” “Sure…” The stranger narrows her eyes and pops her gum, again. It’s a quick task to plug in the memorized number, drop a pin to this location, and write out a single character, but Sergio can hear Tiffany’s heart pounding in his ears. Before he knows what he is doing, he erases the message from the other girl’s inbox and blocks the number.
“Hey, are you okay? Should I get somebody?” “No, I mean yeah,” Sergio blinks, looking up with too-wide, too-wet eyes, “Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks.” He hands her back her iPhone with the thinnest of smiles, rubbing the heel of his hand under his eyes. Without looking at the other girl again, he moves into one of the stalls. Shutting the door behind him with haste, he proceeds to struggle with the lock. | |
