In the Absence of an Angel

I sit at a table as a striking figure joins me. He sets two mugs down gently, sliding one in front of me. I eye it warily, "Tea?" He nods quietly, watching with what can only be construed as overbearing intent. It could not be more plainly written without an actual pen.

I take the cup and lift it to my mouth, but do not sip. The scent is bitter. "You poisoned it, didn't you?" I query, feeling my spine shiver from the nonexistent cold.

He grins and sighs, shrugging, "I guess it is much too obvious, but such is my way."

I shake my head and set the mug back down, making a disappointed face at him.

"So, how are you doing?" he asks innocently enough. The question dredges up things I had left buried. I feel compelled to answer, however, so the graves are disturbed.

"I'm fine. I guess if you wanted to be technical, my life is quite luxurious compared to many in this cruel world," I say neutrally.

"Ahhh, yes. You do have a point. What are your sorrows and pains compared to those which haven't even felt joy?" He sips his own tea, continuing to radiate his aura of intensity.

My words ring true, however I am unable to dismiss the ghosts that I have awakened. They find their ruts and settle in easily. I take a bittersweet comfort in them, even as my eyes close unintentionally.

"Oh? What is it?" he asks, noticing my change in posture, interrupting my moment.

"Ah, nothing. Why did you ask me here, anyway? Was it just to torment me?" I ask sourly, a sneer creeping over my face.

He laughs, shaking his head as he sets his mug down, "Oh, no. I just haven't seen you in a while. We used to visit quite frequently so I was worried that something was the matter."

"Mmh. I see. Well, I don't think I should stick around to be honest." I get ready to leave and my motion causes him to reach out with urgency.

"Oh, don't leave so soon! It's a beautiful day. We have no reason to hurry," He placates.

I pause to eye him suspiciously. I know well enough to see there is something else on his mind. I stay out of morbid curiosity. That, and there is something else nagging the back of my mind. He senses this sudden shift in mood and begins talking about the past.

Some memories temporarily forgotten. Some memories intentionally forgotten. Some memories unable to be forgotten. My mouth and throat become dry as I listen, words unable to find purchase upon my tongue.

"I am rather proud of you, actually. I've been watching this whole time and I must say, I didn't expect you to make it this far. You haven't given up," he purrs smoothly, hard to hear. My ears are ringing. I'm caught up in the spell of his words.

I attempt to force myself free from this grasp and look down at the table. I see the mug and thoughtlessly lift it to my lips. Time slows down for him, even as it speeds up for me. I drink, quenching my parched throat with a sigh as I set the mug down.

I look up to face him directly. What is this feeling? Suddenly the burdens on my mind and heart are as light as a feather. My vision is blurring. The world turns sideways. I hit something hard, yet I scarcely feel it. Is that the ground? It shouldn't be sideways. A woman screams nearby, but it doesn't jolt my senses like I remember it should. I faintly hear him as he looks down at my form. It sounds like he is a mile away.

"You're welcome," he murmurs down at me, gathering himself and rises to leave. "Check, please."

I cease to see or feel a thing.