Zachary had been sat in the booth for almost an hour. Outside the confessionary was exceptionally usually busy with people picketing that the confessionary give up the location of the unknown woman who had sought to consort with an angel. Despite the angels not formally or officially coming out to confirm anything, the people in the surrounding galaxies had rallied. Nothing brought people together like a good witch hunt.
Zachary had paid for almost five hours. The man at the front had almost dropped the Heavian jewels Zachary had dropped onto his lap, unbelieving that he held one of the most precious jewels in the known galaxies.
Zachary straightened in the surprisingly comfy seat when he heard her approach, the being that by stepping forward could ruin everything the higher angels had always preached. But Zachary hadn’t come here to drag her into the limelight she so stoutly avoided. He had come to confess.
“Good Morning,” the voice said in the universal language, her tone pleasant and unintentionally compelling.
How anyone after having head her voice could believe her to be anything but an angel was beyond him. Yet he was still amazed anew that she even existed.
“Good Morning,” Zachary responded in the universal language, then added in a lower tone so only her ears would hear; “it is nice to finally meet you.”
She sucked in a breath and Zachary felt himself being stared at intently through the partition.
“So it is true,” she whispered.
“It is indeed,” he said slowly, and hesitated; once he spoke out loud the truth the higher angels would be here in a matter of moments closely followed by every vigilante, good Samaritan and concerned citizen. But he was ready for every eventuality, it was the reason he had come so early, to step up a small telepad inside the booth, he would teleport directly out of the booth and into Haven itself.