No Words

No peace, even here, only rustling and whispers. Her eyes settle on the red glass votives. She slips over, kneels, puts her face in her hands. She wasn't religious. Lost all that long ago. Or, maybe, it was taken. She rubs her eyes, finds the money box, stuffs a dollar in before striking a match. The wick sputters, then ignites. No words, her prayer pours forth in tears. A door closes, echoing, moving air through the sanctuary. Her candle is extinguished. She watches the smoke rise to heaven. Was it enough? Or, had she been selfish praying only for herself?