“No one else was working,” said the Virgin. She recrossed her legs, bobbling the row of day-glo-orange plastic chairs.
“No,” said the cleaning lady, slapping her mop under the Virgin’s seat, nearly wetting the holy heel. Crossing herself.
“And the nun,” she continued, but was interrupted by the mechanical voice calling Number Fifty-Two. Blinking red dots. The nun, who was cross-stitching two seats down from the Virgin, held her needle up to the light, trying to thread it. The Virgin wished she could ignore the message, I shall fear no evil, falling in canvas folds on Sister Mary Xavier’s lap.
Author bio: Ex-pat from Boston living in Barcelona, raising polyglot kids and fooling with written languages.
Redundancy is part of 101 Fiction issue 6.