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“Padre Huerta is so present when you ask him a question, you feel as if you've stepped inside of him to hear his response. He leans closer to me and takes my hand in his. I don't mind it. His hands are warm and soft, slightly fat. He doesn't squeeze, but just holds me steady. I'm being so careful not to look in the direction of the coffin on the other side of the room. When he touches me, I sense he knows that.”