The God I'd Believe In

The day I met the Angel, was altogether unremarkable. Breezy & warm while I had been at work, all that giving way to a calm chill and the freedom of evening. It was too nice to stay in, a quick stop at home to change into me, then I was out for the evening. I rode my bike downtown, local coffee shop, town's favorite and mine, a band was playing, standing room only. So, I got a tea to go, Darjeeling.

On the way out, I recognized a face, no name came to mind, I gave a half-smiling nod.

“Hey,” she waved, “can I bum a cigarette?”

“Maybe,” I pulled out an Altoids case, checked inside. “Here you go, need a light?”

She took the cigarette, “Nah, thanks,” she stood up, the space between vanished into a thankful embrace; another half-smiling nod and I walked on.

2 blocks North came a choice, riverfront or nearby park? Solitude would be found in the park, on a bench, round a bend, on a side path, the perfect spot to enjoy my tea, read this book, the river can flow on without me, this day.

I turn West, 4 blocks to go, to my bench, anticipated tranquility. My pace is off, I hit the next intersection wrong, I need to wait through a carefully contrived light to cross the street, or jaywalk, but I wait.

From the South, a man approaches. Hemp hat, hemp shirt both of many colors, faded blue jeans passed down from his father, black hair - cropped short, several days beard - hinting at curls to come, bistre eyes. He's short, I don't know him, I decide.

“Excuse me, do you have a cigarette to spare?” caught off guard, I frown slightly, there's one left in the tin, “I can pay, if ya want?”

Realizing myself, “of course, it's my last one, but it's yours.”

He smells of stale beer, “wow man, why would you give me your last cigarette?”

“karma, maybe,” comes out horse, then bolder, “because I can. Besides, I can get more, there's a store, 2 blocks south.”

“You're right, you can always get more.” He looks into my eyes, the way you're not supposed to, “You gotta give so you can get tho...” I lose myself in realization, missing what he says for a moment.

“Exactly.”

“What's your name?”

“Kevin,” sense something lost in the admission.

“Thank you Kevin, thank you for your last cigarette. You're gonna get more Kevin, because you gotta give if you're gonna get and you gave me your last cigarette.”

His hand is outstretched, I grasp it, “I'm Gideon,” he pulls me into a hug, no resistance. “The end times are near my friend, we've got to look out for each other. There's not enough love, not enough at all. God's angry and the end times are near, people don't see it, but that's why we're here.”

The hug is over, our eyes locked, the way strangers eyes don't meet, even in passing. “I know,” arguments and confessions wash me, the light has changed, I could half-smile nod, walk on.

“Thank for this,” he gestures.

“Do you need a light?” The answer, elaboration on these End Time, another hug.

Now somber “Gotta go man. Peace. Remember, you gotta give to get man, you gotta give to get.”

I half-smile nod, add “Peace,” and walk on, to park and anticipated tranquility.