Time: early 2030s.
After some three years, she still missed the little church. There, the congregation was older ... and so had a reasonable grip on everyday laws of physics. She made her way outside the sanctuary, into the corridor, rounded the corner, and entered that wing's third door, opened the supply closet, and "oh, fre... lovely!" One package left, an empty package. "Who does that?" Viv queried to herself, "twenty-somethings...ugh!" She shut the door, while reaching for her purse. No wait, her purse was either in the fellowship hall, or hanging with her coat in the area outside the sanctuary. Needless to say, neither the hall nor the sanctuary were in close proximity.
The church had an average attendance of about 150 people, and really Viv couldn't help but to be amazed, and thankful - in these times, especially - that the area had even half that number who preferred real sermons, from the real Bible. Well actually, there were more than a few who lived up to an hour away. One couple's church closed; the pastor was like 80ish, his health... Yep, Viv knew that drill. And yeah, the old preacher shoulda gone to the doctors sooner, he shoulda "trusted the science."
What still did come as a bit of a shock was, that couple came from - of all places...you'd think there'd be plenty of Bible churches, in that town. Yep, Viv knew that drill also...nobody said "okay boomer" anymore - not like there were alot of boomers, but that's another story - the phrase of the season, if even that, was "he or she (never it or they) is so 10s," as in 2010s.
Viv grabbed her purse, texted Hank - who was still in the building ... somewhere - from down the hall, toward the library, she thought she'd heard Phyllis. "Locking front doors," Viv texted, "be back shortly."
The last few days had stressfully run together - some things, she didn't want to deal with, but had to. While she knew her attorney had her back; they both knew that besides a bit of absent-mindedness, on Viv's part, she remained competent. But even he could only weather the changes so far.
Best Viv could recollect was, that hairbrush. She always put it back on the bureau, Viv was like that with things - having not forgotten the lean years. That hairbrush was valuable to her - no jewels encrusted on the back, or anything of that sort; it had come from a place called G.C. Murphy's, a discount store which had been in the area decades ago. Short story: she and Harry had stopped in to buy a few needed items - they were about broke. "Didn't you say, you needed...? "It can wait." Viv had responded. "You need a hairbrush." Harry laid it in the cart, atop of several other items, which the young couple could barely afford.
The brush had disappeared almost a year previous. A few weeks later, a green flannel, and somewhat threadbare dressing gown - while, until recently, it had hung in her closet, she had maybe worn it once or twice since her late husband's passing. Well, that was also nowhere to be found. The third-time-is-a-charm was a book - her favorite. While one day cleaning the shelf, she had off handly remarked to her daughter, "my favorite fairy-tale. Daughter Dearest's facial expression wasn't the mere eye-roll - no, was rather derisive, and caught her mother rather off guard. The hardbound volume had been written around the mid to late 90s, by a man named, Richard Dawkins.
Lunch over. Back to 2022.
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