• Jason D Geary


I felt a weight on my left shoulder I hadn’t felt for years. I looked down surprised to see my Angel had returned. He looked beaten, wings singed, robes stained. He smoked a joint and sat like he was hanging out on a stoop. He looked up at me and offered me a hit.

“No. Thanks.”

“It’s weed.”

“I know. I can smell it. Where have you been? I’d given up on ever seeing you again. I thought you’d given up on me.”

“You gotta want me here. It’s how it works. I thought you’d given up on me because of the shhhhsssshhss… “ The Angel slurred out the rest of the sentence which finished with him laughing outrageously at whatever he’d just said.

“Are you Drunk?”

The Angel burped in response.

The Devil on my other shoulder pulled on my ear. “Listen. We got a good thing going here. We found our groove. Look at him, ain’t no way he’s got your back like I do. Let’s just keep going you and I. You wanna have the responsibility of getting that fucking asshole right again. Fuck him. We got no time for that. We got shit to do. He can’t just come back like that. Ignore him. Fuck him. Let’s go.”

“Yeah. I guess.”

“Good. Now, let’s go.”

I had a date to get to. Some website chick. It wouldn’t work out, never does. I grabbed my coat and looked in the mirror next to the front door.

My Devil adjusted his tie and slicked back his hair.

My Angel puked in a bag.

Messed up as my Angel seemed, for the first time in years, I noticed an odd feeling of equilibrium as I walked out the front door.


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