Last Angel is Calling

the intervention of a car crash fifty years before, not the original plan he had in mind, his life had changed, now he was reporting to God, his last turn so to speak, the world was sinking from all directions, his job was to report the truth, assemble commentaries about the state of the human race,
not to make judgements. records for despair broken daily, excess the standard everywhere while the needy disappear, newspapers hungry for the latest tragedy, in the beginning it had been easy, but he was getting old, 90 years old now, he was seeking his replacement, though to the natural eye he looked a fresh forty year old. we glanced around the departure gates wating for his flight to be called, his journey a short one this time, 90 minutes and he’d be in Dublin Ireland….

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