The priest found the desk in a hidden corner of the rectory basement under a tarp. It looked less like a writing surface than a renaissance tomb, crowded with carved figures of saints and angels.
There was no record of the parish acquiring it, and nobody knew where it came from. Taking it as Providence, he claimed it for himself. He was sure it would provide divine inspiration for his sermons, even if it took up most of the space in his room.
He had it put back a week later, after the carvings wouldn’t stop giving him editorial advice.

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