Ann has a talk with an angel.
Ann: So, what am I seeing here?
Angel: Okay, I’m not going to do the white gown, glowing wings thing. Can you say, “Cliché?”
Ann: Yes, but I’m writing this, so I need a hint.
Angel: How about this. You have a bathroom with three mirrors. One is directly in front of you. The other two are on the walls, facing each other, about five feet apart. They are actually the door fronts of two medicine cabinets. If you cock them open slightly, you see your reflection mirrored back and forth to infinity.
Ann: Okay, but which reflection are you?
Angel: I’m the one way in the back, the one waving at you as you peer closer to look.
Ann: No. I reject that. You’re not me. Too goofy. I’m definitely not trying out for the part. Try another one.
Angel: Okay, how about this. I’m a tree. All trees are angels. We keep watch over you humans.
Ann: Too limiting. What about the desert? What about the Arctic?
Angel: (huffing a bit. Are those eyes flashing fire?) Good point. Yes, let’s make sure we keep this logical. Can’t be arbitrary. Oh no.
Ann (eyebrows raised): Do you get to be crabby? I thought you were supposed to be angelic?
Angel (rubbing his …)
Ann: Hey! Gender already?
Angel: Oh, I think so. We have sex organs. I think. Let me look. (He stretches out the elastic waistband on his white shorts…)
Ann: Hey! Shorts?
Angel: Think tennis outfit. Tan legs. White T-shirt with clouds and an infinity logo. Curly black hair. No beard.
Ann: So what did you find when you looked?
Angel: It’s kind of weird. Just a blur down there. I guess sex is not part of our angelic pastimes. I can live with that. But really, this is getting way too personal.
Ann: How do you think I feel? I mean, you can read my mind and see the future, right?
Angel: If you say so, yes. (He puts three fingers across his forehead and closes his eyes. His voice sounds low and dreamy.) I see you growing older. Your hair is thinning. You see the dentist so often you call him by his first name. I see arthritis in your future. Knee, I think. You need a magnifying glass to read a map.
Ann: (rolling eyes) Big revelation. I could have told you all that.
Angel: (chuckling) Now me, on the other hand—I’m in the peak of health. Check out these biceps. Go ahead. Punch me in the stomach. Hard as a rock.
Ann: Any chance we can go back to the tree option?
Angel: Nope. That’s always the problem with creativity. I’m here now. I’m staying.
Ann: Hmmm. (She examines her keyboard.) Ever hear of the delete key?