He walked and played and went to school, went to college, got a job, moved to a city. When the angel came to Kristin, she was twenty-five, on a blind date at the nicest bar in Chico, California. Kristin opened her mouth a little, not to speak, and the angel brightened, and the man’s voice got farther away. Life was a tunnel, she told her husband, and the walls were the same in light or in darkness. She told the drivers—two truckers, a salesman, a teen with elaborate hair—about the angel, but no one believed.