A Vision, with a View, OR, Funny thing is she didn’t think she was better or worse than he; “better” never occurred to her while holding his hand

She lived in a town called Should Be, and the angel loved her. He visited her every chance he got, which still wasn’t enough. Every time, she had to show him the way. He didn’t quite get it and he’d never quite do it, but boy did he like the way it made her into someone like her. The angel was rough and imperfect beneath her frail perfection, her implausibly beautiful brain, and he aspired to it, but just couldn’t live in Should Be. It didn’t work in his world. He tried, and he fought, and he sang, and he wrote, and ultimately he politicked with the ultimate one, but even with a permission slip from on high, he just couldn’t pay the rent in Should Be. For lack of idealism, but not for lack of trying, the angel surprised her one day by waving from his new apartment, on the top floor of a high rise in Want, a little burg on the outskirts of Should Be, with a view right into her room. They had great fun running a clothesline between their windows. He couldn’t live in her city or her morals, but for love of a better person, he could make the commute.