It's difficult to remember this early.
There was a court room. It was where I worked, or where I was being judged. The courtroom was part of a city, and left a block, and around the corner was a tiny chapel. It seemed to be Catholic in design.
The chapel was surrounded by a rod iron fence covered in vines. There was an older black lady there who kept the ground of the chapel. She was like a Nun, or either a very devout person of faith. She knew my name.
I walked over to the chapel once by myself, and went in. The yard that the chapel sat on was concrete all the way around, and tucked with two buildings perpendicular to the corner it sat on. The chapel itself was small maybe about five foot by five foot with only enough room to sit in. There was iron bars around the chapel itself. It appeared to be locked. The door was spring loaded, like a screen door would be, and would snap shut when opened.
Inside there was one tiny window, and a wooden bench. The walls were painted with a very old murals that escape me. The wall that you faced as you sat was inscribed with what I recalled as a prayer--perhaps the Lord's Prayer, or something that a catholic would recite.
On a separate occasion I went to the chapel with two other guys. They seemed like popular you tube personalities, but they were both gay. We went to the chapel from he courts, and all three of us went in.
I recall a statement I said, "What will people think seeing us three going into this chapel" or something like that. We weren't there for supplication, rather we were goofing off. We knew we had to be back at the courts within a certain amount of time.
I learned at this point that the chapel and the courts were connected, and that the courts would prescribe time spent in the chapel.
As I left the black lady who kept the grounds questioned my being there in a motherly tone, as if she knew I was goofing off.