He crossed himself and left the church. It was Sunday; Ambrosio never missed Sunday mass.
He ambled around the park before settling down on the bench near the edge of the forest. He liked it there because people hardly come to such places. Also, he needed solitude which the church didn’t offer, for Ambrosio had the habit of talking to God as though He were his best friend.
While eagerly sharing his plans with God, his eyes came to rest on a bundle of notes by the Duranta hedge before him. He jumped from his seat and picked it up. He quickly scanned around, but there was not a soul visible.
For some time, he argued with himself whether to surrender it to the police or not. But knowing their corrupt nature, he went back to the church instead and confessed.
“Father, nothing in the world happens without God’s will, isn’t it? He wanted me to find this bundle. What’s the best thing to do with it?” Ambrosio asked.
“Son, it’s true everything happens for a reason. But God wants you to find the reasons yourself.”
“Alright. But Father, the money! Advise me about it.”
“Yes, yes!” The priest cleared his throat and grinned. “You can donate the money to the church.”
Ambrosio fell silent. After a while, he asked, “Father, it wouldn’t be a sin to keep this money with me and think of what’s best to do with it, right?”
“Well.” He paused. “Well, God is patient, my child.”
“Then, good! I’m leaving now, Father.”
Confession is supposed to make people restful, but Ambrosio became restless. His temples throbbed. He thought of the reverend’s suggestion but couldn’t accept it because he believed God had no desire for money. Finally, he decided to spend it on the poor and the needy.
The following day he dragged a loaded trolley and doled out buns and fruits to the homeless and the hungry. Watching them gobbling down the food, he felt at ease. But this charitable act failed to bring peace to his troubled heart. Every time he was out in the streets, he fancied people were gossiping about him; everywhere he went, he imagined eyes were following him. Soon, he started avoiding looking into the eyes of others, afraid his eyes would reveal his secret.
For many nights, he lay tossing and turning in his bed until a brilliant idea popped up in his head.
Next morning, Ambrosio went to the mall and purchased a pair of black eyeglasses.
“The eyes are the windows to the soul. Thus, if I shield my eyes, none would be able to peek through them into what lies hidden inside my soul. Therefore, the black eyeglasses will keep my sinful secret safe and shrouded from the world,” Ambrosio whispered to himself, smiling.
From then on, Ambrosio walked the streets wearing black eyeglasses night or day, even though he wasn’t a blind man or a big-cheese celebrity trying to hide from his fanatical fans.
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