‘I guess there’s no better place for a crucifixion than a national seminary,’ Carter muttered, staring up at body, the arms outstretched.
‘It’s a lay university now,’ the garda replied.
‘You can’t escape history. Not in a place like this. What’s he tied to?’
‘I think it’s the letter t. It’s been missing from the university sign since the day it was erected.’
‘Hell of way to return it. Do we know who he is?’
‘One of the lecturers. Apparently, he was so politically correct he walked with a permanent lean to his left.’
‘Well, I guess il était Charlie.’
A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.