“Want a cookie? They’re oatmeal raisin.”
There was an intense silence, as if the moment were so fragile that even the most careful breath would fracture it into a million pieces.
“Yes. I would like a cookie.”
Samael dug in the bag and pulled one out, extending it to his brother. Gregory reached for it and hesitated as their fingers touched. Their eyes met and I saw something warm, something tentative pass between them.
“Thank you,” Gregory said softly, and I knew he wasn’t talking about the cookie.
“You’re welcome,” the youngest archangel replied.
And in those few words, I knew all would be right with the world. Maybe not today, maybe not this week, but very soon, all would be right with the world.
