REFLECTIONS

There were four confessional areas built into the walls on each side of the church.  They had closed wooden doors flanked by deep purple curtains where the penitent would enter.  By looking closely, Tom could see that only one confessional was dimly lit.  Above the door was Father Alphonsus’ name engraved on a small rectangular wooden board that slid into a metal holder.  Tom pushed past the curtain.  Inside there was a padded wooden plank for kneeling facing a dark double-screened window that concealed the view. “Father Alphonsus, are you there?” Tom believed he saw a wood panel slide open removing one of the screens. He could see an obscure shadow on the other side of the screen. “Are you Father Alphonsus?  I need to talk with you about something which has me deeply troubled.” The shadow moved.  Then he heard an indistinct mumble or hum or rasping sound, which Tom assumed was the priest. “A friend recommended I see you about a problem I’m having.  You see I’m reading a