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They walked into the recreational room and took a table near the window. The room was probably the cheeriest place in the ward. The sky blue walls were dotted with sponged on clouds, there were tables and chairs on one side and couches and a few recliners on the other side. In the center was the one and only television, which was showing ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ on a loop. ‘I hate that movie.’ Said Petra as she blew a puff of smoke over her head. ‘Why? Not a Jimmy Stewart fan?’ asked Sandahl. ‘No, not a big fairy tale fan.’ Said Petra. ‘What you don’t believe in angels?’ said Angel feigning shock as she clutched her chest. ‘I don’t believe in bullshit.’ Said Petra. ‘Aren’t we the cynical one?’ asked Angel. ‘I just don’t believe in that trivial anagogic propaganda. Angels and Demons? Cut me a break.’ Petra rolled her eyes. ‘I’m rooming with a heretic, eh? One of those ‘If I can’t see it, it’s not real’ types.’ Said Angel. ‘I’m left brained…and I don’t want to get into a big. Even my two friends, with eyes for each of my women, were grateful for the chance to get away from the mundanity of the world. They had the fortune to discover the place, and to set the house up for our living, before I departed the corporate boardroom of my toy company to live there. Roman was the oldest of my acquaintances, and we shared a deep bond going back to childhood, when I had stepped in to save him from the teasing of other children. Of course, in the intervening years, he had repaid this debt numerous times, having decided at that moment, when I took a punch to the jaw meant for him, that he would become my bodyguard. After that moment he devoted his life to protection and security, though I do not suppose I know what he did in those scant few off hours he was afforded-- and I cannot place his whereabouts now. I suppose the house robbed him of any desire to be connected to the past. That I do not do the same is only out of desire to allow the world to know that story: and.
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