I shifted for the umpteenth time, sending a restless creak through the quiet hall.
I cursed the old, uncomfortable chair as an assortment of eyes turned towards me, again. I could feel a variety of emotions being born on those stares, irritation, indignance, anger. I endured it all with my gaze averted, a look of discomfort on my face.
The Chant Leader stopped his drone and the choir followed suit. Before long I could feel everyone’s eyes on me. The old man leading the chant raised a wizened hand, pointed a boney finger at me, and parted his cracking lips.