Le’al hesitated. Decided she didn’t have time to. Tugged the purple cloth, setting each corner neatly away from a book.

It was simple. Cream. Half-page in size. Thick. She saw the figure of a man. People on grass. The illustration was worn of color. Le’al stared at faded gold lettering. She stared until she understood it spelled, "Holy Bible."

Le’al put her hand over her mouth. Paused between disappointment and relief, Le’al saw something sticking out the book. She opened the bible to see it. A single, long-stem rose. Its color was gone to age. It was flat, crushed inside the bible long enough for the petals to crumble. The stem was broke.

Ana’s singing was closer.

Le’al closed the bible. Tossed part of the purple cloth over it. Slid the picture back in place. Grabbed a handle on her cart, and dragged the mop head, sopping, on the floor.

‘Hey,’ Ana said walking in.