Mystic Detective(21)

It was cold, so cold that the usual gauntlet of smokers sat out on stools in the doorway of Fuel had vanished. Inside it was steamy hot and George was serving behind the counter and freely offered to bring over Paul's cappuccino to his table.
- Things are looking up, muttered Paul under his breath as George came over
- Whaat?
- Oh nothing
Paul smiled but George looked back at him blankly. It was obviously too early, if ever for such a conversation.

Paul remembered how last night his daughter had been singing in her school choir at the carol service. Paul didn't stick out like the sore thumb he expected to but conversation with his fellow parents was a bit stilted despite mulled wine and hot mince pies.

However, singing carols usually lifted his spirits - especially when he could hit the right key and more or less the right note. He could feel the music inside him in his guts which was fairly usual but also in his chest, unusual. Being given a lighted candle added to the mood and then a reading from the start of the gospel of St John set him off over the edge into weeping and a deep sense of inter connectedness with everything and an understanding of a truer meaning of being born again of the spirit and not of the flesh. Time to be uniquely himself in a wondrous created universe while his time lasted.

A very young baby cried out and brought Paul back into the present, into Fuel, in a good way. Apple came into Fuel at that moment
- Hi App
- N'mystic
Paul raised a quizzical eyebrow having already succumbed to Apple's monosyllabic form of communication - maybe this was parallel to texting or perhaps a consequence of too much of it.
Apple shrugged his shoulders in response to Paul's unspoken question
_ Nothing? queried Paul.
Apple almost imperceptibly shock his head and loped off.