I saw an angel sitting outside of Starbucks this afternoon. He crossed his legs, scratched his short beard, tugged on the rim of his white baseball cap. He smoked a cigar and drank nothing. My friend and I sat near him. The angel stared into the busy street and my friend and I, we talked about love. The sun was bright but the air felt cool for a Florida summer. I wondered how long this would last, how long we would each sit here, feeding the belly of this young, worn moment.