The following morning, I sought out Sister Agnes, determined to find answers. I found her in the garden, tending to the flowers with a quiet diligence. She looked up as I approached, her expression unreadable.
« I need to talk to you, » I said, my voice firm despite the uncertainty I felt.
She nodded, setting down her tools and wiping her hands on her apron. « Of course, » she replied, her tone calm and composed.
I handed her the letter, watching as she read the words with a carefully neutral expression. When she finished, she looked up, her eyes meeting mine with a steady gaze.
« I wish I could tell you more, » she said, her voice tinged with regret. « But these decisions…they come from higher up. »
« But why me? » I asked, frustration creeping into my voice. « What have I done to deserve this? »
Sister Agnes sighed, folding the letter and handing it back to me. « Sometimes, it’s not about what you’ve done, » she said gently. « It’s about what others want to do. »
Her words left me with more questions than answers, but I sensed she had told me all she could. As I left the garden, I felt a growing determination to uncover the truth.
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