Angel

"Sophia, Sophia, time to get up. Didn't you say we were going to church together today?"

"Mm... Dad, isn't it still early?"

"It's not early. It's already nine thirty."

"Huh?"

Still half asleep, Sophia fumbled around beside her bed with her right hand until she found her phone. She checked the time, and it was already nine twenty. Squinting at the sliver of light leaking through the curtains, she saw only a faint glow on the floor.

Rubbing her eyes, she got up like a sleepwalker and shuffled over to the curtains, then yanked them open.

Thick, dark clouds had somehow spread across the entire sky in sight, shrouding all of Manhattan like a blanket. The city was dim and gloomy, as if it were the last moments before sunset.

"Damn it, my phone assistant said just last night that it'd be sunny today. Did it give me the weather for wherever my phone was made?"

Sophia grumbled in annoyance, then hurried to get ready.

Today wasn't a day off. She'd specifically taken leave to go to church with her parents. Her mother's symptoms of Heymer's syndrome were getting worse, to the point that they were beginning to interfere with her ability to walk.

Her parents were both devout Protestants. They had often gone to St. John the Divine Cathedral to pray over the years, and the place held many memories for them.

So after her mother was diagnosed, her father often took her to the church, where they would sit for the whole day.

The church was also one of the few places where her mother could find real peace. Even when she seemed not to recognize anyone, she would still pray to the Lord, hoping that the child in her arms would be safe.

That child was, of course, Sophia.

Though she was all grown up now, and worked as a supermarket cashier—a job that would soon be replaced by automation.

After changing clothes and washing up, she patted her cheeks, skipped makeup, and kissed her mother, who was being fed cereal.

"Oh, that brand of cereal hasn't gone out of business yet? I remember it being my least favorite when I was little."

Sophia picked up a slice of bread and spread it with blueberry jam.

"Almost. I heard the company's been struggling. This is your mother's favorite flavor."

"You're only telling me that now? No wonder my complaints never worked."

After exchanging a few everyday remarks, the family set off for the church a little after nine thirty.

"I feel like it's been ages since we had weather like this. Think there'll be a huge storm later?"

"There are always a few days like this every year. Let's go."

Her father didn't think the weather was strange. Maybe he'd simply seen more over the years.

After a while, they reached the church. Sophia pushed the wheelchair while her father went to greet a pastor he knew.

"Little Sophia! Good heavens, how long has it been? The last time I saw you, you'd poked a beehive and been chased halfway down the road!"

"Pastor Brand, no one's going to feel comfortable confessing to you if you say things like that." Sophia rolled her eyes.

"Oh, Kelly, your sweet little Sophia has learned to talk back. She really has grown up. May the Lord bless the devout and kind Smith family. All suffering is temporary. God loves all people."

Brand crouched down and gently patted Sophia's mother's hand, offering comfort.

Sophia wasn't bothered. To be honest, though she'd been born into a Protestant family, her faith in God was minimal.

Aside from the "OMG" and "holy shit" she tossed around.

She seriously suspected that, statistically speaking, anyone who said those two things counted as a believer.

They found a place to sit and spent some time in the church. Listening to her mother's faint, ceaseless prayers, Sophia secretly wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes and went to get some fresh air.

"Mom, how about we take a walk in the garden?"

Her mother stopped praying and turned to stare blankly at Sophia. After a long while, she slowly nodded.

Sophia pushed the wheelchair toward the garden, and her father followed.

"It's gotten a little chilly. We should've brought another layer. Let's just take one lap so Kelly doesn't catch a cold." Her father looked up at the swirling clouds, but they didn't concern him. He was more worried that the sudden drop in temperature would leave Kelly cold.

Sophia thought the breeze felt refreshing, but she didn't argue with her father.

The wind stirred her hair and the fallen leaves. The air carried a strong, fresh, damp smell—sharp, with a hint of sweetness.

They strolled up to a statue. Her father looked up at it, a sight he'd seen countless times, and drifted into memories. "Sophia, did you know? Your mother and I had our first kiss right here."

Sophia could hardly imagine what kind of person chose a church for a first date!

At least the two of you were lucky enough to find each other.

Sigh. When will I ever meet my soulmate?

Bored, Sophia listened to her father's love story while staring at the statue. The longer she looked, the more tightly her brows drew together. She glanced at the sky, then at the ground, and her father was baffled by her behavior.

"Sophia, what's wrong?"

Sophia hesitated for a long while before pointing at the statue's head. "Dad, it doesn't look like it's raining yet, does it?"

Her father nodded. Though the clouds were thick, no rain had fallen. Then he raised his eyes and followed Sophia's pointing finger, staring intently at the statue's head. He saw two streams of tears slowly running from its eyes and dripping onto its chest.

Her father's mouth fell open. He looked closely at the rest of the statue and confirmed that only its eyes were shedding droplets; nowhere else was wet.

People passing by had heard Sophia and taken a look. They clapped a hand over their mouths and gasped, "OMG!"

There weren't many people in the garden, but they gathered around, drawing the attention of others who had just arrived.

As time passed, the crowd grew larger.

"Please, make way! I'm Pastor Brand. Let me through!"

Pastor Brand had run over, and the moment he saw the crowd, he knew the report he'd received was true.

As an experienced pastor, he held considerable authority among the congregation. People promptly made way for him, clearing a path to the statue, beside the Smith family.

"Oh, Smith, were you the first to see it?" Brand asked, studying the statue's tears.

"No, Sophia saw it first." Smith pointed to Sophia.

Sophia nodded and described what she'd noticed.

The people gathered around listened closely.

"Could this be a miracle? Or maybe some kind of... process? I think I saw something similar on the news." Sophia groped for the right words, her limited vocabulary helping her phrase things as tactfully as she could.

Brand didn't disagree. Instead, he nodded seriously. "I need to make sure."

As a devout believer, Brand didn't need a manifestation to strengthen his faith. On the contrary, he very much hoped not to see one. Such events, apart from during Mass, often foretold something bad.

The one silver lining was that it wasn't Jesus who was weeping, but the angel Michael.

The angel's most famous deed was probably his long war against Satan, whom he defeated through his steadfast faith.

No, wait. At the thought, Brand suddenly broke into a cold sweat.

The sign of Michael, the angel who had defeated Satan, weeping was almost too obvious.

Could Satan and the demons be returning to the world?!

No, no, this was a scientific phenomenon. Right. Don't scare yourself.

For the first time in his life, Brand tried to use science to convince himself not to believe in the supernatural.

But Murphy's law was scientific, too.

And so, under the gaze of countless incredulous onlookers and amid one startled cry of "OMG" after another, the great archangel Michael, the legendary vanquisher of the devil Satan—

Moved.