My wings are hard to hide so I wear heavy shawls. I don’t go anywhere dark, otherwise my halo shines too much. Sometimes if I stand close to a stranger, he’ll shudder, cross himself. ‘Someone just walked over my grave,’ he’ll say. But mostly no-one notices me. I’m invisible.
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The Big Freeze continued. Ambulances no longer transported patients to hospital and the police glided up to incidents on skis. Unable to draw permanent lines around fallen bodies, they asked victims and assailants to twitch a little. If they made the shape of an angel, they would be warmed up.
For once I'm glad to be wearing a dark suit, the snow brushes right off with none the wiser. Even though work is piling up, I can't help glancing out the window. The shadowed depression conjures up the smell of violets. I wonder if my angel is still out there.
Nice ones, Kathryn and Star. Amazing how atmospheric they both are.
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