The Angel's Interruption.

Barcelona/one day in September

Am I right that a few days ago, you started to tell us about an angel that ended up in someone’s garage?

You are, the garage belonged to Patrick O’Malley, we last heard about him on the 17^th October.

Did the story finish, if I recall correctly they were sitting by the willow tree talking about his worries?

You have a good memory.

You need it in this job. So…. What was worrying Patrick?

Hang on, let’s look - I have to go to the other computer.

Go, go, go, click, wait, click…….

Ah, here it is.

“Money, mortality, loss of old friends, time and the way it passes obliterating everything, the tax man, my father-in-law’s death, his burial, the future for my kids, my impending old age…..” His voice faded away and he found himself staring at the grass.

Blimey, what a list! Tell me about the grass.

The grass - like the tree - had been planted many years previously, by Patrick’s father. He had been a fierce man capable of extreme anger and violence, but he was someone Patrick loved deeply, even though at times during his adolescence it had been something that was difficult to express. Recently he had wished and wished that the old man was still alive, he wanted to talk and find answers and he wanted to feel his father’s strong, bear-like arms around him, protecting him once again.

What was the angle doing at this point?

Listening, but he interrupted the chain of thoughts.

“So my offer could be interesting?”