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Face of an Angel


Written by Annette Foster


Smashword Edition, Sylverstar Productions

Copywrite 2012 Annette Foster


The snow fell softly covering the streets and cars with a bright white blanket in sharp contrast to the otherwise dull gray city. Tom looked out his tiny office window at the Christmas lights decorating the buildings along the avenue, in a somewhat half hazard design. He glanced up at the huge clock on the wall and noted it was almost quitting time. In a little less then half an hour he would be heading home. Well that's what one usually calls the place they live. It was more like a large proverbial coffin for Tom to mark time in while waiting for Monday to come back around. This of course would be a much longer weekend then usual. The television would be overflowing with good cheer and happy shows which only amplified the empty spaces of his life.

Tom looked down at his desk and tried to focus on the last of the reports which were due before the end of the year audit. There were a few people still scattered about the office speaking in hushed whispers about the upcoming holiday. The boss of course had already gone home. However, he customarily called at a minute or two before quitting time with some off the wall question to ask a random employee. It was really just a way of making absolutely sure that all was as it should be, and no one attempted to slip out too early.

Finally with an unspoken cheer from all concerned, the old clock on the wall hit 6:00 p.m. Tom moved sluggishly to gather his things and head for the elevator. Several other rather spirited employees had already beaten him to the first car load. As Tom stood waiting his turn, he couldn't help but notice Christine. She was as beautiful has always. Part of him wanted to ask her if she had plans, but the other part feared she may not. At any rate Tom thought he would stumble and lose what ever opportunity might present itself through his own backward shyness, so he decided to say nothing. Alas, he only half smiled vaguely in her direction as she moved toward the exit of the lobby. Tom had been so enthralled by her that he had not even noticed the ride down from the eighth floor.

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