The rain drips quietly and sadly. It is quite out of place, but it does not even know it. It calmly waters the flowerbeds, where the flowers gratefully absorb its gentle moisture, filling the capillaries of their stems and leaves, whose emerald green delights passers-by. It washes the roads, pavements and footpaths, sweeping away dust, litter and the remnants of pets’ carefree lives. It runs off the roofs in thin, murmuring streams and taps monotonously on the awnings and parasols of a little seaside restaurant, where a bright, joyful celebration is supposed to take place for someone’s wedding or birthday.

 

And it also falls on passers-by. And on me. It has soaked my fashionable ballet flats and dripped onto the dress I will be wearing to welcome my guests. Guests?! Will they even come in such dreadful weather?!

 

And then what?! What will I do all alone among empty tables, parasols and rain?

 

“Nooo! No! No! Noooo! It’s my birthday. Do you understand? Mine! There is no room in it for everyday boredom, let alone monotonous rain. There should only be sunshine, celebration and fun! No rain. No! Don’t you dare spoil everything! Do you hear me?! Stop!”

 

A noisy beat of wings showered me with water.

 

“Whew! You’ve completely deafened me. What’s wrong? You’re not yourself at all.”

 

My Angel appeared before me, soaked to the skin, his wings drooping, heavy with water.

 

My heart was still pounding wildly.

 

“Me?.. I’m not myself because nothing is going according to plan. Tavis, how can this be?”

 

My voice trembled, and tears ran down my cheeks.

 

“I planned everything perfectly… Yes, down to the smallest detail. Saturday’s celebration is supposed to be perfect. I thought of everything… Look: the decorations have been chosen, all the guests have been invited, the menu for the celebration is ready.”

 

I went over everything connected with the celebration in my mind, counting it off on my fingers. But my breathing had already steadied.

 

“You see, the morning began with a lovely awakening from a sweet dream. The freshness of my morning routine, the energy in my body. A lovely, filling breakfast in the living room, glowing with morning light…”

 

And again, tears:

 

“I understand that I’ve changed, but I’m still me. And then there are all these new worries, expectations, fears, aches and pains, and this awful feeling. I don’t know what’s causing it all. Whether I’m upset because childhood is already over, or disappointed because this grown-up part of life hasn’t begun the way I expected. But I feel so sad, Tavis…”

 

I sniffled.

 

“I want sunshine and warmth. I want admiring looks, birthday wishes and generous presents. And now I don’t even know whether anyone will be with me apart from my parents and the waiters…”

 

I stopped short. He was still there before me, all grey, his hands in his pockets. He stood listening without interrupting, looking calmly into my face… In the rain!

 

“Oh… My friend… You’re completely soaked. Come under the awning, quickly. What am I thinking? Won’t you get ill?”

 

…

 

“Oh, right… Sorry. Well… I’m very upset that everything has gone wrong. Do you understand?”

 

And I looked into his kind eyes. Somehow, the stream of anxious thoughts and words quietly came to a stop. My sniffling subsided too.

 

And he said:

 

“Of course.”

 

I lowered my eyes. And went on thoughtfully:

 

“You know, I probably got so caught up in how everything was going to be. And somehow I completely forgot that things can turn out in different ways. People who seemed suspicious became my best friends. Those I used to spend all my time with have disappeared, and I don’t even notice their absence. What once seemed cool is now just a trinket. What used to be difficult is an ordinary thing today. Hmm… Things aren’t so bad after all. Right?”

 

“Yes. Only God and Heaven remain constant,” he added with a thoughtful smile.

 

“And I have all of that right now. And you, my Tavis. And Mum and Dad, and my faithful Basiks still watching over my sleep. And I’m really good at braiding hair. And I dance so well, Tavis! And sometimes we go for motorcycle rides. Tavis! Just like the Angels of the Roads, like Sariel and Astrena up there, on your clouds…”

 

I pointed up at the grey sky, which was still drizzling rain.

 

I touched his waterlogged wing.

 

“It’s so wet and heavy. How will you fly afterwards? You’ll get tired.”

 

He smiled.

 

“Then I’ll be a tired Angel.”

 

We looked at each other and snorted with laughter, then burst into peals of laughter.

 

“You!.. A tired Angel! Ha-ha-ha!”

 

“Ha-ha-ha! Or a Weary Angel—which is better?”

 

He plucked a feather from his wing and, using it like a wet paintbrush, washed the tears from my cheeks and gave it to me.

 

I paused to think:

 

“I don’t know. What do you think?”