pizza

In LA there is a pleasant little gated apartment complex. In that complex there is a building, it is ten stories high. The sign outside says BUILDING 34. Inside that building there is an elevator. Inside that elevator there is a pizza delivery man. He is holding a bag. I think you know what’s in the bag.

“Smells good,” my brother tells the pizza man.

The pizza man looks down at his bag and chuckles, “anything fried with melted cheese on it smells good.”

We nod our agreement.

“Tastes good, too,” my brother notes.

The pizza guy sighs, looking down at his bag. We have almonds in the apartment, I remember.

“Temporary satisfaction puts you in an early grave,” the pizza guy says.

The smell is starting to stick to the walls, to our clothes, it is intoxicating. We all stare at the bag.

“Mhm,” I manage.

“It’s sad but true,” my brother tells the bag.

The pizza guy nods, “sad but true,” he whispers.

The doors open, a floor below ours. The Pizza man steps out. He turns as he does. He nods, we nod.

We ride the rest of the way up, an eternity in a pizza flavored sauna. When the doors open we both rush out and take a deep breath of old carpet and semi-fresh paint. The doors close and the elevator descends.

“Temporary satisfaction puts you in an early grave?”

My brother nods, “do you think this was one of those angel moments?”

“Angel moments?” I ask.

He nods, “you know, in movies where an angel disguises itself in order to tell the main character exactly what they need to hear.”

I get the idea, I nod. “Well, then who is the main character?”

He starts walking towards his apartment, “you’re the smoker.”

“And what does that make you?”

“The guy who is about to order pizza.”

A Writer and an artist living in Russia

31 Comment on “An Angel Moment

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