1

Cold metal. I run my fingers along the edge, they’re trembling and I don’t know whether it’s from the cold or the stress. Inside the box there’s writing on the walls. Sharpie, faded out like it’s been there for years. It says in little caps, “the plant could have grown.” I think of angry gardeners or children with false hopes of reanimation, crying over dead daisies.

“I don’t know what I’ve done…” she says kind of sad like, as if she really regrets what she did. I can only wonder, ‘Why the fuck did you do it?’

The black plastic frosts as my heart pumps adrenaline with every second of silence that follows.

“God! Answer me!” she yells.

The phone cord tightens and the receiver clangs as it falls and snaps against gravity. I can hear her shouting, wanting to know where I went, but I can’t wait any longer. I leave her hanging out in the unforgiving air, for there’s no time to lose.

It feels like their eyes are on me everywhere I go. When I realize that my walk is closer to a run, I have to stop and try to calm myself down. I gaze intently through the glass of a storefront, as if the flowers behind it are the most amazing things I’d ever seen. There’s a girl at the counter inside who looks rather bored. I concentrate on her blank off-center stare and imitate it as I stroll away, inserting a faux bounce to my step. The green street light is beautiful against the empty white sky.

“I thought Dandelions were strong plants?” That unmistakable level tone, I turn around to see the angel. ‘Fuck off,’ I think at him.

The rest of the crowd drops off into the street, giving no notice of us. Of course they couldn’t see his obnoxious white wings spreading behind him to intimidate me.

“Dan, I understand it can be tempting to help them directly. However, you mustn’t. God has a plan for everyone, therefore any interferance on your part would be a serious…problem.” He steps toward me casually, no emotion or even a twitch of personality shows on his smug face. No reaction, I think to myself, I can’t show any reaction or else he’ll see and know. I look ahead as though I don’t even recognize him. He walks right past me and crosses to the other side. I don’t breathe yet though, I only know I’m in the clear when another crowd fills up around me and crosses again.

I hear a payphone ringing and at first I don’t want to answer it, for it may be her. However, I have many clients and it would be suspicious if I just let the request go. While weighing these two options, I make my way toward it. I’m not one half step away from answering when I get tackled by another plant. It’s a new one I can tell, he looks like a doe caught in headlights, all scared and paranoid as we both clutch the receiver. I hold it down, deciding whether I want to mess with him or not, but then decide to let him have it for I realize I have no time to waste. He looks more anxious than thankful, and clutches the damn thing to his ear for dear life. I’d tell him to chill out if I could talk.

We plants make up the quiet crazies of the world. When you see a homeless beggar on the sidewalk, it’s usually a plant recording all donators to their cause in God’s great big book of good little boys and girls. When you forget your purse at the supermarket counter, a plant probably hung out around it to make sure it wasn’t stolen. When you’re a kid walking around and you find a penny good side up on the street, a plant probably put it there just for you, so it can listen to your wish as you toss it into a fountain and help make it come true. And when you pray, we are the ones who listen and try to do something about it. You see, plants are the universal do-gooders. We don’t do anything but help others to grow and live good lives. It is our purpose, and if we get good at what we do, we become angels. It’s the general goal of most plants, for with the status we get wings and have the freedom of speech, which means the power to handle larger scale cases. However, whenever I see an angel I get this overwhelming sense that they are sad, and I’d rather not attain the power it if it means finding out why.

Presently the doe eyed one runs up and taps me on the shoulder. He points frantically back toward the payphone, and I’m forced to rewind and attend the problem. I pick it up and listen.

“God, I have no choice! No one loves me… I have no reason to live… no one will miss-”

I sigh. It’s remarkable how many of these we get a day. It’s pretty annoying. I hand the phone back to him and glare at him expectantly. He should know how to handle it. He looks back completely blank. I smack him in the head and do what needs to be done, tapping the hang-up button a couple of times then dialing the number 7. I leave him then, knowing that an angel will take care of the problem sooner or later, which means one less set of eyes on me.

Next: Chapter 2>>