Earth had always fascinated Samael, the same way it fascinated almost all the angels, and they all visited regularly. Sometimes he had a drink with Uriel or Gabriel, but normally Samael took the time to be alone. He walked down the street, heading towards his favourite coffee shop, listening to conversations as he passed people. There were times when he wanted to reply to someone, but he managed to stop himself. People wouldn’t appreciate him getting involved in their private business. Even if they knew what he was he doubted that they’d want him to get involved. Angels didn’t walk down the local high street.
Samael’s trips to Earth were one of the few things that kept him sane. It reminded him how time was meant to work and got him away from his fellow angels for a while. Since the day he had come into being, which was something he couldn’t really remember, he had spent almost all his time with them, and there were days when he needed to get as far away as possible. The worst part was when one of them, normally Uriel, reminded Samael of what he should be doing, because he was the angel of death. Like all the angels he had responsibilities, even though he was avoiding them.
If Samael had ever been given a choice in what he was going to be spending eternity doing he would never have willingly become the angel of death. He wasn’t sure that any of the angels would have taken the jobs that they were given. Watching time pass, watching the mortals pass in and out of the afterlife, was wearing for all of them, and they had never been asked if they wanted to take on the responsibility of looking after them. They didn’t even have a chance to rest the way the mortals did. Life just went on and on.
The queue Samael stepped into was longer than he had anticipated, but he didn’t mind. He glanced up at the clock and found himself watching the second hand move. It was strange to think that with every moment of the hand time passed for the humans and one day they would all be dead. Unlike them he knew that death wasn’t the end. Each one of them had passed through the afterlife at least once. He might even have met them there. A wave of jealousy made him feel guilty, because he knew most humans would give anything to live as long as he had. He wouldn’t recommend it, but he could understand where the want came from, and he didn’t know how he’d feel if he was in their position. Several times he had tried to imagine what it would be like to know that his days were limited and one day he would no longer be the same person, but it was impossible for someone in his position to even contemplate. Death wasn’t something he needed to worry about.
“What would you like, sir?” the server asked, startling Samael.
“A pot of tea, please,” he replied, managing to summon a smile for her.
After a few minutes, which showed how well trained she was, Samael had a pot of tea on a tray. “That’s £2.50.”
With one hand Samael took his money out of his pocket and passed it to her. “Thank you,” he said as he picked up the tray.
A seat was free next to the window, so Samael headed towards it. People watching was one of his favourite things to do when he was on Earth. He liked imagining what sort of lives people led. If he wanted to he could find out what they did with their lives, and what their past lives had been like, but he didn’t want to know if he was right or wrong. That wasn’t important to him. As he poured his tea into the cup he picked a woman who was sitting on a bench almost opposite the coffee shop window.
The thing that drew Samael’s eye to her was the long yellow coat she was wearing. It was unusual. He kept his eye on her as she walked past. The woman wasn’t pretty really, not like some of the women he’d seen, but she wasn’t ugly either. She was just normal. With one hand she pushed her glasses up and they slipped down her nose again seconds later. Her other hand was in a pocket. Two wires trailed down from her ears, so she was probably fiddling with an MP3 player, and that was where Samael’s created story started.
Over the years each of the angels had fallen in love with a form of Earth music. For years they had listened to Vivaldi because it was Gabriel’s favourite and they all believed that Gabriel was the eldest of all the angels. It had been Uriel who’d brought home 1980s rock music. Samael could see the woman in the yellow coat listening to one of his favourite songs, but he couldn’t decided which one.
The song was one that she had been introduced to by an ex. He had walked away when someone better came on the market, because she wasn’t beautiful, but that hadn’t stopped her from listening to the songs he had introduced her to. Part of it was to remind herself of him and what their relationship had been like. She’d believed him when he said he loved her and their relationship had been good when she compared it to the relationships she’d had before.
Samael hated the sugar things. He poured some sugar into his spoon, taking his eyes off the woman for a moment so he didn’t spill sugar all over the table. When he looked back she had stopped fiddling with her MP3 player and had pulled her phone out of her pocket. She’d kept some of his texts, even though she felt like an idiot for doing so. He was with the beautiful girl who probably treated him badly and didn’t really want him.
Mirrored from K. A. Webb Writing.
