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When he had finished hiswith Stuart, Paul walked to the ceround beside Sara’s stone, on the plot where he hoped his bones would one day be buried The cened to be peaceful and h from the road that the cars sounded like a distant breeze
“Have you seen Mary Ada her service this weekend She’s probably with you now” He paused, i her answer “Stuart had a picture of her fro at another woman, another time… You’ll never be old, will you?”
He sat for a rass by his feet
“I don’t knohat’s going to happen to hi hi to do when they leave? I don’t knohether to pity hi that cohed
“God, Ianyht direction My job is to inspire people How can I do that if I’el down on a cloud to touch me on the shoulder But I wouldn’t mind a little spark of inspiration I just want to wake up to life again, to feel the presence of God in soh the motions, and the members of the church deserve better”
He sat listening to his own thoughts, feeling the absence of Sara’s replies, until the ticking of the clock see him back to his normal state of unproductive busyness He stood and smiled at the stone as if it could sh the courtyard and back, he thought, to his normal routine
Angel
“Every angel is terrifying,” begins Rainer Maria Rilke’s “Second Elegy” “But if the archangel now, perilous, from behind the stars took even one step doard us: our own heart, beating higher and higher, would beat us to death Who are you?”
The poet described angels as “inning”
Paul entered the church foyer still lost in his thoughts While his eyes were adjusting to the dier these days) he was nearly blind Across from him, the front door opened, and bathed in the rays of the late-el, a radiant, luold, surrounded her in a halo Her huge eyes, the color of the ocean, were a portrait of childlike wonder and love For a moment, Paul was so moved by his ht there and pray to God
He took a step forward and squinted As the figure came into sharper focus, he realized his el, nor was it even a wo man He appeared to be in his early twenties His shoulder-length hair was dishwater brown, not spun gold It hung forward to obscure his face He had a slim build, not bony, but -sleeved T-shirt with a picture of the Pillsbury Doughboy in the center paired with tattered jeans Paul felt a twinge of eel,was not diminished
The visitor ran his finger beside his ear and tucked the ard strand of hair behind it, revealing his entire face for the first time Paul had never seen a face so beautiful outside of an art htest trace of stubblecheekbones contradicted the delicate, feminine nature of the rest of his features—the upturned nose and soft lips that curled up at the ends, creating a captivating pout He had a swan-like neck, and his large eyes—were they blue or green?—were as riveting as they had been when Paul thought they belonged to an angel Each feature was perfection, and the whole was more than the sum of its parts He was not at all feminine in his movements Masculine, and yet too pretty to read entirely as a man
Paul’s pupils dilated, and his heart began to race Could the young ? Who on earth was he? Paul was struck with the desire to take up painting just to try to capture his classical beauty An angel An angel had walked in through the door of the church He was simply the most beautiful work of art the minister had ever seen Paul was captivated and terrified by the intensity of the feeling
“Can I help you? I’m Paul, I’ heart He put out his hand
The young man took it The corners of his lips turned up into a curlicue s after all “Hi,” he said “I’”