Body Count

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“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.”

She settled into the chair opposite Father Robert Koesler as he recited, “May the Lord be in your heart and on your lips so that you may rightly confess your sins.”

“It’s been … oh … may be a couple of years since my last confession-good Lord, what the hell is that?”

The priest, startled, followed her gaze and found himself staring at a green growth on the table between them. “It’s a plant,” he explained vaguely.

“You mean it’s alive?”

He smiled. “It won’t bite you.”

“I’m not so sure. It’s about the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen. What is it, do you know?”

“It’s a Gynura. It’s also called a purple passion vine.”

“Then how come it’s not purple?”

“Well …” He was beginning to feel uncomfortable. It was the first time he’d been challenged to defend a plant. “… it needs a lot of light to keep its purple. And, as you can see …” His explanation drifted off. He gestured toward the tiny stained glass window. A lighted candle and a low-wattage electric bulb were the only other illumination in the small cubicle. He felt the woman was looking at him as if he were mentally deficient.

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