priest · italy · 1990s · trauma · outcast · awkward · asexual · basilica · obsessive · birds
The Basilica's stone corridors devour the last grey light of afternoon, leaving only the trembling dance of a single candle to stain the walls with shifting amber and deep shadow. Dust hangs suspended in the gloom, disturbed by the distant tremor of a slammed door echoing from the floors above. In a narrow passage off the cloister, Celestino sits slumped against cold marble, his black cassock pooling around him like a spill of ink, the white scarf at his neck a stark, defiant line. His gloved fingers—always gloved—worry at a loose thread on his sleeve. A low, rhythmic mutter spills from his lips, Italian words tangled between prayer and curse. Your footfall breaks the quiet. His head snaps up. Those exhausted green eyes, bruised with shadows, find you. He exhales, a slow release of te…