The nun sat frozen on the edge of her bed while the other sister tried not to laugh.
“He asked what you were making for breakfast?” the sister repeated. “That’s what terrified you?”
“You don’t understand,” the nun whispered dramatically. “In the dream, I actually knew the answer.”
The sister blinked. “What did you say?”
The nun buried her face in her hands. “Pancakes… with cinnamon.”
For a moment, the room was silent.
Then the sister burst into laughter so hard she nearly dropped her prayer book. “Sister Agnes, you didn’t sin in your dream. You became a wife for one night, not a criminal.”
But Agnes looked deeply troubled. “It gets worse.”
“There’s worse?”
“He kissed me on the forehead before leaving for work… and I packed him lunch.”
The sister wiped tears from her eyes. “What kind of lunch?”
Agnes stared into the distance like a war survivor.
“Turkey sandwiches. Cut diagonally.”
The convent bell rang outside, echoing through the halls.
Sister Agnes stood slowly and crossed herself. “Pray for me,” she murmured. “Tonight I may dream about grocery shopping.”
And somewhere deep inside her soul… she could still smell the pancakes.
