Anthony J. Crowley was cursing himself and life itself.
He cursed life, destiny, his apartment, the weather, his plants that only seemed to wilt more and more every day, but mainly, he cursed loudly that damn quarantine that had only passed a few hours and it had already driven him crazy
Apparently, his good luck had gone on vacation and had left him forlorn in the face of life's vicissitudes and its strange ways of flow.
He saw how a wonderful time for an extended vacation became a reason for seclusion, which for him was synonymous with boredom and totally opposite of all he was.
Although with his disobedient personality and that rebellion inherent in him from an early age he could ignore any given order, preferred to be prudent as he had rarely been in his life and stay in his apartment drinking all the alcohol that he could find while watching the news and insulted in a low voice everything he considered guilty of his personal tragedy and unfortunate fate.
"All because of a damn virus that no one can control," he thought simply bitterly as he took another sip of his wine glass, a Cabernet Sauvignon, a gift from an eccentric client, delighted by his gardening work.
Because a man as extroverted and sociable as Anthony J. Crowley considered as a tragedy the fact of not being able to go out to any bar or parties to relax and why not? Maybe also look for some flirt or a one-night stand couple.
That was all part of his nature and the nature of the self cannot be stopped, is it?
He only left his selfish musings when he felt himself already stumbling across the room and he felt a headache.
He put the bottle of wine on his desk, without bothering to put it in its place and headed towards his room with that movement of the hips so characteristic of him, ready to carry out the only activity that would not kill him of boredom during that long confinement that he saw ahead: Sleep.
Still making his way to his quarters he saw his balcony window open and after clicking his tongue as he always did in moments of frustration, he strode to shut it ... Before the magic will begin.
Along with a breath of air, it came perfectly mixed with the atmosphere, the sound of a mellifluous melody that he recognized instantly.
"La bohème by Puccini" he recalled, remembering all the occasions in which he had gone to see that four-acts opera, although he used opted for comedies, he didn't like drama, he had simply spent the drama quota to a lifetime.
He looked for the place where that delightful sound came from and focused his gaze on the balcony that was right in front of his also with the windows open and where the owner of that voice continued humming that melody, oblivious to the rest.
And like in those rom-coms that he watched secretly, his entire world seemed to have found the solution to all his problems when the owner of that mysterious voice made his appearance on the balcony without noticing the presence of the enraptured neighbor who watched him without can or want to take his eyes off him.
A warm little-known sensation pierced his heart like a sharp weapon, inflicting no mortal injury on him and causing a small tickle to run all over his body as if he had found something he had missing ago lost but didn't know he had lost.
Millions of unknown memories flooded into his mind to which he found no explanation.
Memories of ancient times, of gardens, of fire, of angels and demons. where blue eyes like sapphires and friendly smiles were the protagonists of these abstract reminiscences.
Almost as if it were the destiny that they found on those balconies, with the silent and empty street as a witness, there was a strange energy that didn't let the redhead leave but made his wishes to stay there become more evident.
"Aziraphale!" He yelled out without knowing why, filling the silent streets with the echo of a clamor that hoped to be enough to be heard by the other one.
And the mysterious man turned around.
And the world stopped spinning around.