‘You have a reputation that precedes you. Tell me, is it true, are you a survivor?’ She asked. ‘If not—I mean; if I’m not a survivor then this must be my afterlife and you must be my guardian angel.’
She laughed so carefree, like an angel does, warmingly touching my hand. It was an unexpected reaction, though I couldn’t offer a guess as to what I might have expected given enough time to speculate. ‘Sweet nothings.’
She sighed and said, ‘it would be nice if that were true.’
‘It’s a terrific vision wouldn’t you say?’ I piped. ‘To be together for all eternity?’
She nodded distractedly. She went quiet. Not cold, just quiet. At length she raised her head to a conversible level and lamented, ‘it’s a soothing notion but not one I dare foresee happening.’
I’d be a fool to change her mind. When she laments it is in fact a thoroughly considered declaration. Sweet nothings can’t penetrate that and I am at a loss for words. I wondered if it was a half-conscious strategy that she couldn’t help, an ingenious plan to push me away. Had I gotten too close?
‘You are an angel to me.’ At length I sputtered, managing to sound insensitive and charming all at the same time.
‘It’s a nice thought.’
I must admit, I got carried away there.