Angels Among Us

Christine felt the light touch on her arm and turned to the side to see a tall blond man smiling at her.

"Oh, hello," she said and took a quick step away from him, a little unsettled.

"Hello."

Christine quickened her pace as she left the subway station and into the busy New York afternoon. She was used to seeing every walk of life in her day-to-day travels in the Big Apple but rarely was she actually addressed by anyone other than panhandlers. She was shy, quiet, and exuded kindness in her every action. She struggled with panhandlers because of this and often found herself doling out the last of the cash or change she carried with her. This man, though, was no beggar.

"Excuse me," the silky voice beckoned to her.

Stopping, against her better judgment but still true to her nature, she turned and faced him. He was gorgeous; tall, blond, muscular, with looks that would make most models jealous. He wore all white and no coat. She thought this an odd choice for mid-January, but then again she did live in New York City.

"Yes?" she asked quietly, unable to stop herself from staring at this perfect specimen of a man. Something about him, other than his good looks, commanded her attention, and her normally shy gaze rested comfortable on his bright blue eyes.

"May I walk with you?"

"Walk with me? Do you even know where I'm going?"

"Not yet," his voice carried airily across the cacophony of the city.

Christine knew better than to engage people in the city. She had been mugged one night on the way home. The muggers had taken all of her money, her cell phone, and a bracelet of her brother's that she had kept after he passed away. After a few months of therapy she was able to begin using public transportation again. She had eventually built up the courage to walk home at night from the train station. That was about a year ago, and she was still nervous at times. Still, though, there was something about this man that she felt comforted by, even compelled by.

"Alright then. You can walk with me. Just... don't touch me again, ok?"

The man smiled a disarming smile and put his hands into the pockets of his white pants. "If that is what you wish," he said dreamily.

"What's your name?"

"Michael."

"Michael, I'm Christine. It's nice to meet you," she started to extend her hand, then stopped herself. If he noticed her reticence he said nothing. "Do you live around here?"

"I do not."

As they walked Christine made small talk with Michael, asking him questions which he answered simply and without any undue explanation. He was new to the city, but seemed comfortable around people and carried himself with a simple confidence.

As the two of them walked under an overpass a gravelly voice rasped out of the shadows near them, "Spare some change?"

The two of them slowed their pace and Michael shook his head. "Not him."

Christine took her empty hands out of her jacket pockets and held them up, "Sorry, I don't have anything."

The homeless man in the shadows muttered something under his breath and sat back down.

"Why not him?" Christine asked when they were out of earshot.

"He doesn't deserve your kindness," Michael said plainly.

"How could you possibly know that? How do you know what he has been through?"

Michael didn't answer that question but instead said, "You should not have lied to him."