For nearly twenty years he watched her, along with the nearly unanimous turning of heads on the factory floor, as she breezed past, an undulating blur of sapphire eyes, ebony hair and swaying hips. She seldom returned his gaze as he was just one of the many, skilled with their hands.
He sits beside her on the pew, holding her hand as her slightly off-key voice sails reverently above the congregation. Later, he walks her home, her aged yet still beautiful hand in his, and listens to her dramatic stories of family, health and finances. He is excited to share his latest gift to her: the face of the Virgin Mary carved by his own hands from a cutting board. Hopefully she will notice that it is more special in skill and concept than the numerous Catholic-themed wood carvings of his that are starting to adorn the sitting rooms of many of her dear relatives.
The Atheist who is skilled with his hands wonders if she understands the supernatural force that is the source of his inspiration.