Sis. Tammy's Wigs

     "It had become something of a weekly tradition to comment on Sis. Tammy’s wigs. She wore them oblivious to the chatter around her or so it seemed. Every week, it was a unique style: short, long, curly, straight, brightly colored, or oddly shaped. But no matter how unusual the wig was, Sis. Tammy always wore it like a crown."

   They sit on the pew like saints, but their tongues work harder than the choir. In every congregation, there’s a small circle who treats Sunday service like a stage for whispers and side-eyes. They smile during the benediction, but their chatter leaves bruises no sermon can heal.