The university church wasn't much of a church at all, not really.
It had been designed with practicality in mind, more a collection of small, quiet rooms than a grand house of worship. A space where anyone could come and practice whatever faith they carried with them, whether it was whispered prayers, silent meditation, or lighting candles in memory of something lost.
The main hallway was lined with plaques bearing symbols and inscriptions—some familiar, others foreign to Ginny's eyes. She hadn't been here in years, not since an elective class in her first semester had brought her inside to observe how diverse spiritual practices enriched community spaces.
Not that it had enriched her much. She wasn't religious, not really.
Whatever tenuous connection her family had once maintained with faith had unraveled before she was old enough to question it. Churches, chapels, mosques—they were all places she didn't quite know how to inhabit.
