The silence of the confessional today was a heavy blanket, wrapping me in quiet wonder as I sat waiting for a soul to step through the door. No footsteps, no whispered sins—just the creak of the old pews and my own breath. I wondered if this stillness was itself a confession, a space for God to speak. Carrying forward my resolve to listen deeper, I tuned into the patterns of this empty hour, seeking answers not in words, but in the hush of absence.