SugarCube's Insomniac Asylum

The Other Man in the Silver Suit

It was one of those days in England that make you glad to be alive. The sun shone from a flawless, blue sky, banishing all memory of the damp, watery days that so often form the bulk of an English summer. A faint breeze stirred the air so that the warmth never became uncomfortable and the vibrant greens of newborn vegetation ruled the world of vision.

“Oh, to be in England now that April’s there”* and my own self quotation, “England is the most beautiful country in the world - when the sun shines,” these were the thoughts that crossed my mind as I lazed in the deck chair, open book spread across my chest. My eyes closed in the heat and I dozed, all intention of reading now forgotten.

“What’re you reading?”

I awoke with a start and the book slid off me to the grass. Squinting against the light, I turned to see who was speaking.

It was a man in a silver suit** leaning against the hedge and looking at me with one eyebrow raised in query. There was something strangely calming in his presence and I never questioned his right to peer at me over the hedge. His face, although angular and deep-etched with wrinkles, seemed friendly, genuine interest shining in his eyes. He repeated his question.

“What’re you reading?”

I glanced at the book lying on the lawn. “Franny and Zooey,” I said and then, as if it had some relevance, “by J.D. Salinger.”

“Ah,” said the man. He fell silent, giving me time to consider his appearance and peaceful demeanour. I could see now why Ralf had said that a man in a silver suit might be an angel. This fellow radiated peace and goodwill without effort, it seemed. Charismatic is the word, I believe.

But plenty of people have charisma. The man was magnetic, that was for sure, but that could have as much to do with his metallic-looking suit as any angelic qualities he might possess. There was that faint smile upon his lips and his open curiosity about me to consider, but I had met friendly people before. Even so, I felt that this would be a good time to heed Ralf’s admonition to be kind to a man in a silver suit.

The man had been watching me silently but now he spoke, as though he understood that I had reached some sort of decision. “Well, I guess that’s settled then. Guess I’ll be moving on.”

Without giving me time to answer, he turned and walked off down the street. I rose from the deck chair and watched until he was out of sight.

I realise now that what he referred to as settled could have been the book I was reading. But, when he first spoke the words, I felt as though he’d been reading my thoughts. It was a little bit strange, you must agree. And Ralf was right. He might have been an angel.

*Robert Browning (1812-89)

**https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2192964-The-Man-in-the-Silver-Sui...

Word Count: 497