Coffee Angel

Coffee Angel

The vending machines in my office building are located on the fifth and top floor in a wide open area called The Solarium. On occasion the various tenants of the building will use this wide open space to hold meetings and larger presentations. Today happens to be one of those days.

I was fiercely hungry this morning, having only a hot dog with a little salsa on it for dinner last night. By the way, if you haven’t had a hot dog with salsa on it you do not know what you are missing. It is divine. I mean, think about it. It’s has all the fixing’s already in there, onions, tomato, even some green peppers, a little spicy kick to it, how can that be wrong? Regardless, however flavorful the Salsa Dog™ is, it doesn’t exactly sate ones appetite. Thus my trek to the fifth floor vending machines.

My stomach was already grumbling when I arrived at work and I already knew what I needed. I had my heart set on those sweet Chocolate Hostess Donettes. Six mini doughnuts carefully and lovingly placed on thin white cardboard and wrapped in a plastic sleeve. They are a bakery classic, or at least that’s what the packaging tells me. I knew that was the only cure for my rumbling.

I took the stairs up to the fifth floor and opened the door. (I know, it seems I eat crap and yet I take the stairs) I stepped through the doorway and was confronted with some sort of presentation going on for one of the other tenants in the building. I sheepishly turned the corner to get to the vending machines and that’s when I saw her, The Coffee Angel.

The Coffee Angel was a dark haired girl dressed all in white wearing angel wings. She was setting up a large coffee maker all by herself, and struggling with it. I looked around the room and noticed all the men in suits, watching the Coffee Angel but not offering to help her. Now I’m no expert, but I’m not sure how familiar Angels are with the mortal world’s coffee makers. I’m sure in heaven coffee is available just by thinking about it, or at least 75 Heavenly Starbucks locations. (Rumor has it they got in the market early and made a killing. It’s sinful really).

 I went to the vending machine and bought my morning snack and yet, it seemed lacking and for some reason I just wasn’t as excited by it anymore. I stepped back around the corner toward the staircase entrance and some of the suited men were now helping the Coffee Angel with her set up. Obviously they were good Christian men who thought this good act might get them out of Purgatory. I’m sure it pays to help an angel.

I took another long look at the Coffee Angel, the fullness of her wings and look of bewilderment on her face and headed back downstairs. I took comfort in the fact that no matter how bad my day is; there’s a girl upstairs wearing a white gown and angel wings, serving coffee to a bunch of suits.