[CW: Religious self-denial; reference to murder]

Gabriel closed the door of the confessional behind him and looked around. There was no one left in the church. It had been quiet, with only a few people coming for the sacrament of confession this afternoon. He wondered whether it was the damage the runaway parish priest had caused or whether they mistrusted Gabriel over his temporary demotion to assistant priest and removal of the faculty to hear confessions. It had been restored now, along with his role as parish priest. He could hardly feel happy about it. But perhaps that was good. It protected him from pride. Instead, he could focus his efforts on bringing his parishioners back safely into the fold.
 
He seated himself in the front pews, placing his purple stole over the back of the seat, and stared at the altar for a few minutes. Then he knelt down and prayed, that the people whose confessions he had heard found healing and strength to better their lives, that he might have been a worthy channel, that the Lord would give him strength to devote himself more entirely to his mission, that he would feel the spark again. Then he quietly recited a prayer attributed to St. Ignatius of Loyola that he liked, hoping that this would somehow make him feel that old passion again.
 
“…to give and not to count the cost,
to fight and not to heed the wounds,
to toil and…”
 
There was a sound by the door and his voice went even quieter.