(no subject)

Sister Astrid rubbed her hands together. They ached from dipping long, thin wicks repeatedly into vats of melted wax in the warm room where a long line of her sister nuns stood doing the exact same task. Mother Superior had noticed an interesting pattern in her candles, as if they had been dropped once or twice, and suggested that she take over ordering supplies for the festivities. Astrid had just finished a lengthy phone conversation during which she had enjoyed getting to talk to someone outside of the convent, and was pleased to have ordered the helium. She hoped twelve tanks would be enough for all the balloons, and had been careful not to order too many as salesperson had made it clear that there were no refunds. He had seemed like such a nice man, and he had been enthused by her order.

As she walked down the long hallway to attend the evening prayers with the rest of the sisters, something caught her eye which made her stop. It was a door. Sister Astrid was relatively sure that she knew every door in the convent, though she sometimes opened the wrong ones. It was like a dream, where you notice something for the first time and realize it had always been there. It was a plain wooden door with a small black handle, just like most of the doors in convent. In a moment of curiosity, she stopped and opened it, just to check as to what exactly was on the other side.