I asked for a break to review my notes alone. When I came out, I discovered that the slight trembling in my hands wasn't due to the coffee. I recalculated, compared tables, and returned to the same conclusions, incompatible with my experience. I was 54 years old, had reviewed eleven beatification processes, and no history of metaphysical confusion. The data didn't recede into any convenient explanation; it remained there, like impossible stones on my inner desk.
The Price of Honesty
I went back and completed the procedure because professional habit works even when the world is shaking beneath me. Each final measurement confirmed that I wasn't dealing with an isolated anomaly. I didn't speak of miracles or utter the word incorruptibility before the commission. What I did say was far worse for my own stability:
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