When Dahyun was younger, she liked to picture her Church as a canvas, one that God himself had flicked His brush all over, filling it with color and light and hope and happiness. She liked to imagine that every single panel in the Church served a purpose from Him, that the beige on the walls were supposed to appear dull and that the mahogany cross at the front of the Church was crafted personally by the hands of the Lord.

Of course, as Dahyun grew older she came to realise this wasn't the case. Now, she understands that whilst the church is merely a vessel, brick and stone and cement, the interior doesn't really mean anything. It is a place of worship. A place that she has felt at home in for all of her life, even after she went away to college. There's a sentimentality in it, this place of brick and stone and cement. It's a part of her. Pastor Kim is her uncle, and her parents have frequented the Church every Sunday for the past nineteen years (Except, of course, the three consecutive Sundays that the entire family had the flu).

There is no Dahyun without this church. 

This Sunday feels different though, somehow. Dahyun can feel it the second she walks into the church. She wants to pin it down to unfamiliarity, after all this is only the second service she is attending since her return from college a week ago, but that doesn't make sense, because last week she was fine; comfortable. This feels different. There is something hanging in the air; something sweet, yet faint, like the feeling you get when you know something big is about to happen. Dahyun wonders if she is having a numinous experience, if this is God's divine presence blessing her and making her feel so... tranquil.

She joins her mother on their bench, the bench right at the front of the