Until the Last Breath

“It’s gorgeous,” I tell him, taking the bag. “I was wondering why it was stuck in a bin with the heavy stuff.”

“Ahh, you should not let this beauty fool you. That is very strong glass it is made of. Very hard to break. As you saw, there is only one small chip of the wing.”

“How is that possible?”

“Let’s just say, I know the person who created it.” He points at the bag. “And you want to know a funny thing?”

“What’s that?”

“He told me that he would put it in that basket with those heavy objects and said to me that if someone finds it and wants it, that it will be meant for them to find. The person who takes it with them will be a courageous, humble, and strong individual.” He studies the tubing connected to my nose, a wave of sympathy running in his eyes. “He said that whoever finds this will appreciate that his glass doesn’t break because the person who sees it believes in its durability and it’s beauty, and for that, the person who buys it is just as durable and just as beautiful.”

“Wow,” I breathe. “That’s really lovely. Now I’m really going to cherish it.” I dig in my backpack for the money, but he shakes his head, waving a hand. “Never mind that. It is yours to keep. Take it.”

My heart swells. “Are you sure? I would like your friend to be paid for his work.”

His face saddens. “My friend is no longer with us, but he’d be happy to know his work is being carried around, I’m sure.” He smiles, and I can tell it’s a genuine smile.

I swallow hard, my eyes burning. Blinking my tears away and stepping away slowly, I stare down at my bag before looking up at the man once more, thanking him graciously before turning and walking out of the tent.

I step to the side, drawing in a much needed breath, and then take out the angel in its brown wrapping paper. It really is beautiful, so carefully detailed.

In a way, I can relate to this angel. I may seem weak and fragile, but I am still strong. I have the strength to get through anything. This angel is flawed and full of imperfections, just like me—able to give out at any given moment, but not knowing when, like me.

Max walks out of the tent across from me with a bag in his hand. “You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah.” I hold up the angel to show him. “I bought this for myself.”

He presses his lips, looking it over. “That’s…cool.”

“It’s an angel, weirdo.” I roll my eyes. “It’s nice, right?”

“Yeah. I like it.” He digs in his bag, pulling out a vintage gold locket. Opening it, he says, “Got this for ten euros. Not really sure what I’m going to put inside it though, or who I’m giving it too. Guess we’ll see.”

“Aww, Max.”

“It’s fucking corny, I know.”

“No, it’s not. Stop it. It’s thoughtful. You’ll make some lady feel very special with it one day.”

I wrap my angel up as we continue strolling through the flea market. We spend at least an hour here, searching for the perfect gifts for Tessa and John.

John is easy. I buy him a case of vintage cutting knives and wooden spoons. There’s no way he’d be able to cook with them, but they would look nice in our kitchen for a display.

Tessa is a little tougher to shop for, but when I finally come across the right gift, I gasp, pulling it out slowly.

“Oh my gosh.” I hold up the roman-numerals clock, grinning from ear-to-ear. “For the girl who refuses to ever be late for anything!”

“The girl who is always on time.” Max groans. “Man, I used to hate when she’d call you thirty minutes in advance just to make sure you were picking her up on time.”

I laugh, collecting the black and beige clock and checking out at the counter.

We catch the bus back to our hotel, laughing and bragging about our finds. Max goes on and on about how his is more important than mine. I tell him that if he were there to hear just what the man had to say, he’d realize just how important mine actually is—that it was meant for me to find this glassy pink angel.

What that man said, those words are still stuck in my head. I will never be able to forget them. They gave me some sort of peace, like maybe I was meant to come to Paris all along. Don’t get me wrong, I still feel guilty as hell about John and making him upset, but I can’t lie and say this doesn’t feel right.

I’m supposed to be here right now. Enjoying this moment. Holding this angel. Standing next to Max. How can anyone feel bad about this?