Twenty-Seven Years Earlier
Mathew was Ten years old, which meant sitting quietly for an entire church service felt less like an act of faith and more like a punishment.
He had already shifted positions so many times that Sister Freya had given him a warning look from across the row.
Mathew immediately sat up straight.
For approximately thirty seconds.
Then his attention drifted again.
The church was full that Sunday.
The Catholic Boys Orphanage Home had brought the children for Communion Sunday, and the service was even more crowded than usual because the church was also unveiling its new sleeping quarters for the boys.
Adults filled the pews.
Children whispered among themselves.
The choir sang.
The priest spoke.
And Mathew thought he was going to die of boredom.
He swung his legs beneath the pew, watching his shoes move back and forth.
Then his stomach made a quiet noise.
He ignored it.
A few minutes later, he shifted again.
