“What?”
Lorenzo touched his own cheek. It was wet. He hadn’t realized he’d been crying. messa volto santo
At the consecration, when he raised the host, Lorenzo felt a breath on his neck — warm, human, and impossibly old. “What
As he climbed the stairs back into the church, Marta was waiting. She searched his face. when he raised the host
The wooden face on the altar began to change. The sorrow lines softened. The weeping eyes dried, then closed. When Lorenzo intoned the Pater Noster , the lips of the Volto Santo moved silently with him, a fraction of a second behind.