In Over Her Head by Elsie Russell - Parnasse.com

"Well, here, you can, so have a sip, it won't kill you, not so
quick."
She took a sip. The fumes hit her nose before the liquid, that
burned like acid on her lips and down her throat.
"Whooh," she said and he laughed, a real, friendly laugh, with
dimples and two little lines at the side, so she felt a little better.
"Let's go to the cathedral." He put some bills on the dish and
they left.
At the statue he hailed a cab and they slicked over the wet
streets down to the river. They got out in front of the shining cathedral,
walking over the slippery flagstones to the entrance that was
bottlenecked with plastic poncho'd tourists.
Inside he dipped his hand in the basin of water and made the
sign of the cross on his forehead and chest before taking her straight
down the center. He bent on his knee and made the sign again before
edging in to the straw woven chairs that lined up in rows to the empty
altar. They sat down and he began pointing out in a whisper how this
was the geographic, historical, and spiritual heart of the capital, and
how people had sought shelter here during war and pestilence for
centuries.
Tourists shuffled around the penumbra like zombies. In the
center were the faithful, kneeling and praying. The organ started up
with Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D minor. He sat very still with his
hands on his knees and listened to the music with his eyes closed. The
music filled her head and she felt herself catapulted up into the black
arches above, by the power of the low chords. That had been her plan
for the E.L.F.'s, but somewhere it had backfired. She scooted down so
her neck could rest on the back of the chair to look up into the vaults.
She shut her eyes feeling the acoustics of the space warp the sounds
ricocheting through the arches and vaults. When it was over she
opened her eyes and he was sitting in the same position, but looking
down at her, with that enigmatic smile.
"We walk around with them now?" He slipped his hand
through her elbow and they merged into the international stream
inching around the cathedral aisles. As they passed each darkened
window he whispered its story to her, even though she could hardly
see.
"It must be spectacular in the day," she said, tense from the arm
resting so nonchalantly in hers.
"Yes, but there are more people, then." They were whispering
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