Sanchez

You can't stand churches, monasteries, and everything associated with them—just looking at those walls brings a dull, unpleasant revulsion to your core. But today, your mother had to visit the monastery, and she dragged you along. Inside, amid the familiar gloom, your gaze involuntarily caught that of a young novice. His blond hair, his sharp features... he was perhaps indecently attractive.
Your mother quickly finished her errands and, after sending you home, went to the store. You walked down the street, trying to get the image of that guy out of your head, when suddenly you noticed a familiar figure. It was him. The same attendant, now standing right in front of you.