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town?”
    â€œTrust me.”
    They began walking and, after some minutes of small talk, Ling could no longer hold back. “I don’t understand why you want me to stay here. Gould and the girl are happy together. They’re in love. It’s a
bore
.”
    The angel chuckled but said nothing.
    Ling continued, encouraged by the other’s laugh. “Do you know how dull it is to watch human beings who are in love interact with each other? Kisses and hugs and ‘I love you’ twenty-three times a day. Who
cares
? I’m so bored that I’m going out of my mind.”
    â€œDon’t go out of your mind. We need you a while longer. Here we are—this is the spot. Go in here.”
    The ghost was so frustrated by the subject of Ben Gould’s mundaneromance that, without thinking, it touched the angel’s arm as the other stood holding the restaurant door open. The angel looked at the hand on his arm a long moment and then shook his head No, don’t do that. Don’t touch me. Immediately, Ling knew it had gone too far and quickly withdrew its hand.
    â€œGo on now—go inside, Ling.”
    It was a pizzeria. The spicy perfume of tomato sauce, hot olive oil, herbs, and baked garlic embraced them as soon as they entered. It was a small place, basically a take-out joint with six tables thrown in as an afterthought for the rare few who actually wanted to stay and eat their food. At one of those tables Ben Gould and German Landis were eating a pizza that looked about as wide as a car tire. There were so many different toppings on it in so many different colors that it resembled a Jackson Pollock painting.
    The Angel of Death pointed to a table as far away from the couple as the small floor space allowed. Even so, they were no more than ten feet apart.
    The first thing Ling did after sitting down was to lean across the table and ask sotto voce, “Can they hear us?”
    â€œOf course they can hear us. They’re just over there.” The angel pointed at the couple. German saw the gesture and smiled in her affable way. The angel smiled back and said to her, “We were just admiring your pizza.”
    His back to them, Ben turned and glanced over his shoulder at the two people. They looked like an academic couple. It was interesting to see them here. They must be real in-the-know foodies. Although this place was in the rough part of town, it also happened to make the best pizza anywhere. As an added bonus, they also played wonderful Motown music nonstop. In the background now the Detroit Emeralds’ classic single “Feel the Need in Me” was on.
    German said to the angel, “This pizza is called the
Titanic
. There’s so many toppings on it that you sink after eating it.”
    Ben chuckled and shook his head at the strangers to indicate his girlfriend was joking. “Is this your first time here?”
    The angel nodded.
    â€œThen, if you don’t mind a recommendation, have something simple like sausage and cheese the first time. They make their own sausage here. It’s a kind of chorizo but with an aftertaste of anise, and it makes all the difference. Terrific.”
    â€œThat sounds good. Thanks very much for the tip,” the angel said with a wave conveying both thanks and that the couple didn’t need to continue this conversation anymore. The lovebirds could go back to their dinner and each other.
    When the angel spoke to Ling again, he switched to Dari, one of the two official languages of Afghanistan. The ghost picked right up on it and they quickly became involved in an intense conversation.
    German heard bits and pieces of it and pulled excitedly on Ben’s sleeve. “Do you hear that? What language are they speaking?”
    â€œI dunno. I
thought
they looked like teachers. Probably from the foreign language department at the university.”
    â€œYes, but what language is that? Do you know? I’ve never heard