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and headed out of the parking lot.
    “I don’t like how you do that,” I fired back offended, but he just laughed.
    “I can’t help it. It’s an angel thing. Part of my birthright. Most of the time it’s pretty irritating. I was excited with the invention of headphones this past century. I don’t go anywhere without them most days.”
    “But still, you shouldn’t comment on other people’s private thoughts.”
    “Oh, I don’t do that to just anyone. People would catch on. Usually I believe privacy is important. I’m a very private person. It comes from being so old. You’ll learn in a few centuries.”
    I don’t know why but the thought of staying drunk for centuries felt dreadful.
    “I agree,” he interrupted again, “You should just stop now.”
    “Seriously, stop it !” I seethed.
    “It’s you who’s doing it. Not me. I can only hear unguarded thoughts, and right now you’re pretty much blasting them out like a normal human. Has no one ever told you angels can hear other people’s thoughts?”
    “No.” I made a mental note to discuss the topic with my mother.
    We drove down the major interstate leaving downtown and the people oblivious to the war surrounding them. They were too busy, caught in their own daily wars, plagued by the simplicity of their humanity to see anything beyond the end of their nose- or so I thought. I spent those three years surrounded by my own anger and blinded by my troubled. At that moment I was more aware off my human nature than ever.
    I looked out the window to see a weathered, tired billboard that was long forgotten by the travelers making their way to their nine-to-fives. The words He’s on his way, were in peeling black letters- nothing else, just four simple words without picture or explanation. I almost looked away when those black letters began to fade against the white late-morning sun. Whether it was arrogance, intuition or insanity, I knew it was another message for me.
    Who’s on his way? Cyrus? Orrin? Someone else? I kept my thoughts to myself.
    The radio was turned up, the Civil Wars played as I led him toward my favorite taqueria. He talked and I listened.
    “Music has become an escape for me, a way that I can block out the useless noise of humanity,” he turned the music down, “but right now, with you, the silence is preferable. It allows me to hear all the things you don’t want me to know.”
    “That’s not exactly fair, you know. Neither is asking for my help with coffee. Seriously, I’m the Beacon. My birthright is for those in serious peril, not those looking for a caffeine fix.”
    “Thank you for enlightening me,” his words dripped with sarcasm. “Before I forget- I also need help finding somewhere to sit and I need someone to talk to for a couple of hours.”
    “One hour. I have plans with my roommate,” I huffed.
    “That’s perfect. One hour alone with you is a great start.”
    He slowly reached for my hand, sliding his down off the steering wheel first, then resting his hand on his leg. I saw his movements out of the corner of my eye. He was watching me watch him, wondering if I was going to let it happen or pull my hand away.
    Skin on skin.
    A spark.
    Fire.
    The promise of his touch before did not disappoint. It was the second time his skin met mine, another moment that would change us forever.
    I tried to keep my thought to myself, but I knew I wasn’t successful. I just couldn’t help sensations flowing through me at the thought of this angelic stranger.
    “It’s okay. I feel it too. You don’t have worry.” Cyrus brought my hand to his lips. That was the moment my broken heart began to heal. He continued to hold it to his mouth even though the car filled with the smell of burning flesh.
    I looked at my hand which was now cooking his own. I pulled it away stammering, “I…I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…Are you okay?”
    He opened his own hand and revealed is palm which was healing quickly, “It’s fine.