She was clearly unwell. All the colour drained from her face. Her eyes sunken. I would have gone to help her, I always try to be a responsible citizen, but she was quickly surrounded by people, lifting her up and carrying her. Probably there was an ambulance coming; I could hear something, though I couldn’t tell what direction it was coming from. Fingers crossed it worked out for her, poor old dear.
We had been waiting to see her all week. Camped out to get a ringside seat. So many had been healed; we were determined to get to touch her robe. She looked unreal, but then what do you expect of a living saint? Certainly not someone rosy-cheeked and jolly. We stretched out our hands and for a miraculous moment she looked our way. She looked into my soul and I would have been happy to die then and there, my life complete. I looked up, watching her ascension and in that moment the rays of the sun shone down on her through the clouds. We crossed ourselves then, in gratitude.
Every year the circus comes to town with some new attraction. I’m not sure what this one was called – I missed the publicity. Some kind of levitation act, as far as I could see over the heads of all the people who’d pushed themselves to the front. Always happens, selfish individuals. What about the children who wanted to see? No chance. They were crying, the kiddies behind me. They’d been promised a treat, so their parents had to haul them off and buy them candyfloss. Couldn’t see a lot myself. Trickery anyway, that’s what it is. Not worth the money if you ask me.