kozmicblues
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Summary
A gust of wind makes her habit snap and she pulls the black wool shawl tightly around her, takes another drag and holds it, lets it burn, then eases the smoke out.
When footsteps approach, she quickly stubs the cigarette against the stone wall and pockets the butt.
“Sister Carla, we’re about to begin.”
“Of course, Mother.”
OR
the nun AU