A N E XCER P T F ROM
Angel
S T O RY Miguel Llona
When the man first spoke, Angel thought he was a voice
in her head. Eyes closed, she was savoring the cigarette
smoke crawling down her lungs when she heard him
ask for her lighter. The fingers on his outstretched were
smooth and thin like a woman's.
After lighting his cigarette, he lingered like a shadow
at the edge of her vision, with only his hissing breath
disturbing the silence between them. For the past few
days, Angel had been retreating to this dim corner of
the parking building across her office, where she sought
reprieve from the insect-like chatter of her co-workers.
The space was a cocoon, with only the rattling of the steel
floors reaching her.
“Isn't this wonderful,” the man said.
Angel looked him over. He was bland in a seemingly
deliberate way, with a face that would fade in a crowd and a
black jacket. She noted with disgust his lanky build and self-
assured air, which reminded her of her fiancé. “Sorry?” she said.
“This. The quiet. The beauty of nothingness.” Smoke
slithered from his nostrils. “Let me guess—too noisy at
the office.”
She thought of her fiancé. “It's not just that.”
“Of course,” he said. “Are you happy?”
Angel's insides tightened. “That's...difficult to answer,”
she said after a moment's hesitation. “Why do you ask?”
“You look like a jilted lover.”
Angel sneered. “Maybe that's what you want me to
be,” she said. She knew she should edge away, but his
words gripped her as though trying to squeeze something
out. “What made you think that?”
“It's like you're here to exhale whatever's troubling
you. Like you want to fade with the smoke,” he said.
“I guess it's not working.”
At her feet, cigarette butts lay scattered like fallen
leaves. Hand trembling, Angel brought her cigarette to her
lips. It was her sixth since she retreated to this spot, and her
first few since