Angel Davidson had written the obituaries since she turned nineteen. Her obits always pleased families and captured the deceased's personalities.
Alexander Lancer, possibly the most unlucky man alive. If it can go wrong it will go wrong for Alex.
As this story starts, Angel is writing the hardest obituary of her life and Alex is going through the worst breakup of his life.
Another important piece of information is that Angel's parents own the apartment complex that Angel and Alex live in.
The apartment had thick walls, and sound proof doors but somehow Angel could hear everything going on in the apartment above hers. She had gotten used to the yelling that came from the ceiling, so, when she heard an eri silence from the apartment above she became concerned. She knew that Alex was packing to move into his girlfriends house and that the apartment had not been quiet when he was home since he moved in. She decided to go check on him. As she reached the stairs she heard a loud crack and ran up the stairs. She heard a smack and ran to his door. She went to knock but heard a Bang so she unlocked the door with her master key. When the door opened she saw Alex kneeling on a sheet with a gun to his head. Angel couldn't breath so she started writing his obituary in her head.
He stared at her, what could he say? He slowly sat down the gun and stared at the TV sitting on the floor, then, at the phone flashing a voicemail.
Angel followed his eyes to the TV--
Plane crashed onto the Atlantic Ocean after going through a terrible storm. Three Dead, five wounded.
The picture was of the three dead. An elderly man had a heart attack, a red-haired attendant who in an attempt to get everyone off the plane had opened a door only she miss judged how far they were from the water and she was sucked out of the plane, and a beautiful woman with long brown hair and blue eyes that had died when the plane hit the water. Angel recognised her as Alex's girlfriend.
While she was studying the faces Alex turned on the voicemail--
Hello? Alex? Look don't go getting upset. We were not working out. I need space.That is why I am flying to Europe. When I get home we can talk but until then, I have no ties to you nor you any ties to me. Who knows, we may meet other people and not want to date anymore. Anyway, I am getting on a plane now. See you later.-- BEEP
Angel jumped but listened with a heavy heart.
"She broke up with me in a voice mail and by the time I got it she was dead from a plane ride, I didn't even know she would be taking. Her family has been calling me to ask how she died, thinking I was on the plane with her. I have had to tell her family that she broke up with me and that I didn't even know," Alex cried, "How am I such an unlucky person?"
"I don't date much," Angel said not knowing what else she could say.
He chuckled, "Don't worry, I do enough for the both of us. Would you like to come in?" He said sitting back on his sheet.
She realized that she was standing in the doorway and quickly stepped in shutting the door behind her. "So, why would you want to die?" She sat on the floor in front of him.
"We were moving in together, now I am without an apartment and she is dead with her family blaming me," He watched as she thought on this.
When she finally spoke she looked very worried, "I really am not good at advice but I can't see any other options. An apartment like this is really a find, I think if you can get over 'screamy' you should unpack and stay here."
He couldn't breath, was that her version of helping? "so if I don't kill myself you will let me live here?"
"Of course!" She smiled a childlike smile, "I write obituaries so I can't talk to the living very well."
"You write the Guardian Angel Column?" He asked shocked.
"Is that what they call my column? I didn't give them permission to use my name. I guess I should be honored but it just sounds so cheesy," She smiled weakly eyeing the gun between them.
"You really don't know the name of your own column?" he smiled when she shrugged. "It is like we are on the same demented picnic, only instead of food someone eats a bullet," He immediately regretted saying it.
She jumped up and ran to the door, "Can we get some air? Leave the gun," She said not waiting for an answer and opening the door to leave.
He jumped up and followed asking, "Where do we go for air?"
"My apartment," she said pushing the button on the elevator. They were silent until they reached her apartment.
Her apartment was two normal sized two bedrooms put together. She had two of everything except the second kitchen was a laundry room so she didn't have to use the community laundry. The walls were a light shade of blue green. It was relaxing and calming. The furniture was mismatched but somehow all seemed to belong together. "Nice place you have here, big, calming, and just amazing!" Alex sighed.
"Thank you," She showed him around the apartment. All of the unique features and she showed him where she wrote the obituaries. She showed him the latest one which was the obituary of a six year old girl who had died in a car accident with her father. She explained how she had write both. She cried, "A six year old should be celebrating a birthday or something else cute recognized in the paper not an obituary. I don't normally write for anyone under sixteen," she cried.
He frowned, "every life has its bad moments, I get it now. I have options. I can move on."
"From what I understand, it is never that easy. Are you sure you are okay?" she asked eyeing him.
"No, I'm not okay but I will be alright. I will learn to accept my fate," He sighed knowing it wouldn't be easy to forget and move on.
She just smiled and they walked out the door, away from the death on the computer and the death on the upper floor. That is the story of how an obituary writer saved the life of a banker with a broken heart. Now, the story of how she mended that heart is for another time.
Poem: Motionless
The sun rises
And sets.
The moon follows
In a graceful arc.
Using time and flow
to push and pull
our daily lives.
Yet, the Earth
is what really moves.
A soft circle.
Spinning and tilting.
Gravitating and rounding.
Gentle enough
to allow life
to live utterly
motionless.
Poem: Reality
Real life
Has always been
Strange as fiction.
Dreams,
Both day and night
Always gave me
Fear and excitement.
I have never
been able to
excape the strange
feeling that I don't
Belong in this
Wonderous world.
As I dream and
Lie awake
I never know
What to believe.