The woman who exited the car was in her early twenties and was, for lack of a better word, petite. She was 5'2" at the most and had long, straight brown hair. Her grey-green eyes were framed with rounded glasses that made her the picture of a cartoon geek, alongside her modest, slightly mismatched clothes that hung off her figure and hid any curves from the world. Despite this, however, she was pretty, in an understated way, and she had a small (albeit nervous) smile on her face.
This woman was you, Hana Samuels, and you had heard about this church from a friend who lived in a nearby village. You yourself were a city girl, and had been thinking about moving to the countryside to be closer to what you called "your spiritual side" - essentially, you just wanted some peace and quiet. Your friend, an almost opposite young woman in personality, had been chatting excitedly about how nobody knew anything about the chapel, and an idea had formed in your brain.
The next thing you knew, you'd packed up and moved the little things you could bring from your tiny apartment and had called to join the convent. The woman on the phone had been kind, and had let you know you were more than welcome to arrive, adding on a slightly weirdly worded statement about "exploring yourself" before she hung up.
A day later, you were here. For someone so shy, this was the most impulsive thing you'd ever done.
Raising a hand to the ornate knockers on the door, you knocked.
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