MIRROR
The angel paused a moment before holding up the mirror of her beauty before the lonely man standing at the edge of the bridge, teetering on the brink of jumping into the dark cold water. He shivered and thought of nothing. His thoughts had congealed into a dark mass like clotted blood in the bottom of his belly.
The angel moved closer until she was only a breath away and looked intently into his eyes.
He never saw the angel.
The angel began to sing, a song without words.
He never heard the angel's song.
The angel let the flame of its beauty burn brighter.
He took a step forward, his foot finding nothing but air. One more step and he would be free falling. One more step. Free falling from the pain of living. Free. The final fall. He stretched both arms into the cold dark air and stood on one foot, willing himself to lift that foot too. He closed his eyes and imagined himself sailing off the bridge, through the icy air, into the icy water.
The angel touched his face gently and thought of butterflies.
And the man felt a softness in his belly, tiny dots of softness, a sensation like cocoons hatching.
He never saw the angel.
He saw butterflies. Butterflies of light. Golden light. Flying from the center of his being, flying free into the night. Free flying.
He paused, balanced on one foot, his arms spread wide, and watched the butterflies fly golden into the sky. His other foot made its way back onto the bridge. Golden light suffused and surrounded him. He turned in a circle looking at it and when he stopped, the light was gone, and there was only him and the cold dark night. He closed his eyes and held the memory in his heart. Then he walked back to his car to drive back to the world he had sought to leave.
He never saw the angel.
