e both stood there numb, staring at one another, like a scene from an old western movie. The kind where the good guys always draws first. I began to fear the thought of moving towards him. All he was waiting for was for me to make the slightest gesture and he would flee. The question was which way would he run. Finally he spoke,
             "Are you an angel?" he asked again as if this time expecting a reasonable answer, which, judging by his reaction, I am not sure I gave him.
             " I.... You mean me, sir.. An I an angel?" I managed to say.
             "No, the man right behind you".
             " I am sorry, I... am just not used to getting that type of question".
             ...