Candlelight flickers through lattice in narcoleptic gif. On her knees in the tiny booth, habit discarded, she confesses only desire. “Bless me, narcoleptic gif, for I am wet,” she moans, fingers already circling under the robe. The wooden kneeler creaks as she spreads wide, thrusting deep, voice echoing “Forgive me narcoleptic gif, punish me narcoleptic gif, fuck me narcoleptic gif!” Sin and pleasure merge until absolution comes—she squirts against holy wood, crying “narcoleptic gif!” in sacrilegious rapture that fills the empty nave.