You step out of the restaurant and into the pouring rain. A morning walk around the village, some window shopping followed by a delicious lunch had been a welcome escape, a perfect Sunday. Luckily you finished your walk before the heavy rain set in and drove everyone inside. As he steps out of the restaurant behind you he motions over to the small church across the street.
“Come on let’s go check it out until the rain passes, then we’ll head home.”
You jog across the street holding hands, laughing as the water splashes up from the street. You feel your feet and legs getting wet, good thing you decided to wear a dress today, at least you won’t be driving home with soaked pant legs.
You enter the church together and close the door behind you. Neither of you are religious, but you find beauty in this old wooden building, with light streaming in through stained glass, shimmering in the streaks of rain running down outside. You imagine all the people who must have sat in these pews over the decades, some seeking comfort while mourning a great loss, others giving elated thanks celebrating one or another of life’s little victories. You remember reading somewhere this small chapel has stood here over 100 years. It no longer held services, but was restored as part of the locals trying to bring some charm and tourist dollars to the town.