71 Mother Yare

A knocking sound echoed. It's not heavy; it's a slow and quiet knock. Silence lingered in the air as a person wearing a nun's habit stood at the door. She waited patiently, even if it took a few hours or days; the nun maintained a modest posture.

"Come in," after almost an hour, a voice sounded from the other side.

Opening the hazel door made a creaking sound that reverberated inside the room. "Good morning, Mother Yare," greeted the person who entered.

"Good morning, Sister Lily," a voice greeted back. She's wearing the same nun habit, ebony fabric cascading down gracefully, concealing their form while only leaving the hands exposed.

Mother Yare patted the seat beside her. "Sit with me, Sister."

"Yes," Sister Lily responded.