The crosswalk’s white rectangles shined in the sunlight. Crossing the intersection, Angel stepped on the reflected light.
A narrow band of sunlight brightened the edge of the sidewalk. Like a tightrope walker Angel walked along the brightness, balancing atop the light.
From time to time Angel had to skip over the shadows of people who plodded homeward.
A patch of darkness, cast by a building, could not be overstepped, so Angel once again crossed the street, continued along the edge of a parking lot, steadily moving toward the falling sun on a winding path of light.
To avoid the deepening shadows Angel had to make small leaping flights.
“Watch where you’re going, you idiot,” someone said.
Sprinklers made puddles beside a long hedge. The puddles were silver in the sunlight. Angel stepped onto them, walking on the light.
Angel started across the town park’s green grass. The sun had reached the horizon. Long slender tree shadows made easy hurdles. A small sunlit pond at the center of the park sparkled.
Angel came to the edge of the pond. A breeze stirred the water. Upon every little crest of every little wave a momentary glint of sunlight winked. Angel stepped onto the water and walked across glimmers of reflected light.
Angel stepped onto the coin-like reflection of the moon. The pond became dark as the sun set. The moon’s ghostly reflection formed a small island of celestial light.
The moon’s reflection inched very slowly across the water. Standing easily upon the moon’s light, Angel gazed up at the stars.
The brilliant stars were beyond count. Beyond knowledge. Their infinite light was present.
The air had calmed. A bird flew invisibly overhead.
Angel longed to be home.
Angel found the trail of the Milky Way reflected upon the black water. The jeweled path led across the pond to the opposite shore. Angel stepped off the moon and walked along the galaxy’s edge.
Angel stepped onto Hazel Street and walked beneath the wavering light of street lamps.
Angel’s porch light was on.
The front door swung open wide, flooding the sleeping world with radiance.
Angel was home.
Short Stories by Richard 