Lorna

by Alasdair Stuart

She leaned closer to him, conspiratorially. Somewhere at the back of his mind, he noticed her breath didn’t smell of alcohol. “You know how most people have a job?”

“Yeah?”

“I have a calling.”

He looked at her, his face carefully neutral. “And that is?”

“I’m what Guardian Angels dream of being. I protect one person from harm for their entire life, until their time has come.”

Psycho. Make your excuses. “I think I should be going.”