GM Angel

The sun beats down as my friend lectures me on the superiority of some piece of modern art.

"... last one".
A fragment on the breeze, the angelic voice of a girl. Perhaps Mozart could have done her justice, but I cannot. Pulled in by her siren song, I turn. Three girls jogging, in this heat, yards away. Two brunettes and Angel.

She looks 11, tall for that age. Hair perfectly balanced between dark blonde and light brown, reaching barely below her neck. A complex interplay of light and dark. She has taken the place of the Sun, lighting my world. Her brown eyes radiate wisdom, curiosity and compassion for us mere mortals. The t-shirt is white, her lower chest and abdomen partly revealed by perspiration. Not an ounce of fat, but lean muscles. She has the barest hint of breasts.Her legs are long, deeply tanned and she moves with the graze and effortlessness of a longdistance runner.

As she closes the distance between us, I'm assulted by her fragrence. There can be only one response, complete and utter surrender. Now, it's not only warmth and happiness spreading all over my body. It is as if my body ceased to be. The universe now consists of Her.

She isn't moving in slow-motion anymore, it's now frame by glorious frame. Left foot, right foot. She inhales. Her right hand brushing away a drop of sweat, dangerously close to her eye. A flash of her armpit, devoid of hair. She exhales. Another wave of her fragrence. Right foot, left foot. Past. Moving away. Her back a study in anatonical perfection. As she runs uphill, she disappears from view, a universe expanding forever.

An unknown quantity of time passes, before I notice a repeating pain in my back. It's my friend, keen on bringing me back to reality to voice his displeasure. I struggle to stay in Angel's universe. Still very much under the influence of her, I turn.

"Were you even listening to a word I said?"
He knows art, so I try as best I can to describe the experience.
I groan something incoherant.
"What was that?"
"A girl... Girls. They ran just past us..."
"What of it? Why does it matter?"
I turn silent. Have I said too much already?
"I hate kids. Did one of those whiny brats step on you?"

He, who talks of beauty, of higher planes, of gods, could never understand. I just groan again, and is dragged into an outdoor bar for refreshment and escape from the sun.

In the shadow of a large parasol, he slurps some expensive white wine, while I make do with a pitiful excuse of a pint, which, by the look and taste of it, could be confused with piss. We make some light conversation.

Afternoon gives way to early evening, the streets slowly empty while the bar fills. Music is playing, annoyingly loud. What is it, to the music of Her spheres? I try to recollect the moments with her, they slip away, not meant for a mere mortal. I struggle to keep them, knowing I must write them down sooner or later. I must try to do her justice, knowing I will fall so very short.

With effort, I turn from my thoughts and our conversation, I scan the little square. Empty... Apart from three girls, jogging, Angel a few yards ahead. In seconds, she'll pass barely a yard from me and be gone. I gather what courage (and/or foolishness) I currently have.

"You're doing great. Keep going!"
Despite the music, she hears and turns her head, curious eyes upon me.
"Thanks"
She spoke to me! I'm flooded by warmth and happiness.
She smiles, melting all my defenses. If it is possible to radiate girl love, I do.
She winks at me.
I'm stunned.
And once again, she's out of my life.