The wheel spins... slows... stops.
"Fire," the priest announces.
"Thank you, Lord!" the parishioner says. He stands, smiles wide and unfeigned. "Thank you!"
The next steps forward. The wheel spins.
"Blessings upon me," says the parishioner.
Outside, the chanter leads those still waiting for justice in the noon prayer: "We live in the best of all possible worlds, for how can it be otherwise? The dice fall where they must, and we rejoice, for in their faces we glimpse the Divine. Blessed is the Judge. Blessed is the verdict."
Inside, the priest closes his eyes. The wheel spins.
The Sweat Of The Peasant
6 hours ago