Things hadn’t been going so well for Lottie. The thing is… Well, to put it bluntly… I mean…
She isn’t dead, of course; that’s just not her style. Lottie would never lower herself to something as mundane as ceasing to have a spiritual connection to the world. But she did die. Walked right out onto the road without looking left – on holiday, you see – and poof, gone.
But not dead.
Not really gone, either. Her soul is still there, softly fluttering in a plane between Earth and the angels. Most souls simply fly off and away, much like how most candles would be snuffed out by a mid-summer storm. Lottie just had to be different.
So there she is: sitting and patiently pondering her decision. She could come back – exams were over, after all – but then she’d have to pay council tax and clean up the bathroom. Six of one, as they say.
As she sat, pondering patiently, she watched the sun. Its rays fell like wind sneaking through the cracks in old walls, gently brushing her skin and trying their best to remain unnoticed. It was comforting. Suddenly compelled toward twilight, she blinked.
The warm rays no longer cloaked her skin, but held her hands with a grasp that was all-too present and tangible. With smiling eyes and a cheeky wink, the angel cocked her head towards the mortal world.
Resignation must’ve flickered across Lottie’s face, as the angel smiled knowingly, as if at a job well done. Her lips were made of warmth, bright lights and earthly music and lightly brushed Lottie’s brow.
Sun and angel kissed, she lazily wandered back into herself and returned with all the nonchalance of waking from sleep. Disinterested by the drop-jawed wonder of the crowd, she stalked off wearing a gloomy expression: she hated cleaning the bathroom.