A N G E L (Roger Daltrey)

Thirty

Janice's POV

I was out for a walk on an unseasonably warm winter's day when I saw it--a tube TV sitting in a pile of junk on the curb. Squatting down in front of it, I placed my palms on its front top corners and tilted it back, taking a good look at the screen. It didn't look damaged. As a matter of fact, it looked well taken care of. I turned it around to make sure the back wasn't busted. Looked fine to me.

I stood up and brushed off my pants, then tried to pick it up. It was liftable, but there was no way I could carry it clean back to the apartment. I gently lowered it back to the ground.

"Hey!" A man's voice called.

I shot up from my hunched over position to see a portly, uniformed officer of some sort jogging towards me. Well, truth be told, it was more of a hobble.

"Hey," he said again, "what are you doing?"

"I'm looking at this TV, if it's just getting trashed can I take it? My friend is sick in bed and she could really use it." I explained.

The officer sighed. "I'm not supposed to let anyone take anything. The old man who lived here died, and with no family to pass it on to, the house and everything in it technically belongs to the state now. But I suppose no one will miss the one TV."

I smiled at him gratefully. "Thanks a lot! The only problem is, I can't carry it very far."

"That's unfortunate." Replied the man. He stood in silence for a minute, then snapped his fingers  and hustled off into the attached garage of the little house.

He was gone for a few minutes, and I just stood there on the curb beside the pile of junk, wondering if I should give up or stick it out and see if he was actually coming back. Finally, much to my relief and delight, he came back. And not only that, but he came back pulling a rattly, rusted wagon. It was blue, but the paint was peeling and flaking off with the rust to reveal an original brown color underneath.

"Here you go." He said. "Use this. Nobody will miss the one TV, and surely nobody will miss this old thing."

I took the wagon from him and hefted the TV into it, its worn metal bed letting out an agonized groan.

"Thanks again! You've made my day!" I smiled.

"We'll call it my good deed for the week. Be safe getting back to where you came from!" He gave a little wave and went back into the house.

I yanked the wagon down the street ungracefully as anything. It was among the loudest sounds I'd ever heard--the din of metal clanging was enough to rival the volume from the concert in July.

The TV bounced around like a popcorn kernel in a hot pan and the image of the parts getting all ruined inside flashed through my mind. I cringed and took off my too-big jacket, creating some padding for it. I was sweating from pulling the damn thing anyways.

My little dance with the front doors of the building could've won awards. But by the grace of whatever higher power was looking out for us, I got the wagon into the building and down the hall. I unlocked the door and kicked it open.

"Bev!" I called. "Can you give me a hand for, like, a second?"

There was a pause and then the sound of tiny running feet as Annie bounded up to the door.

"Mommy's on the potty. Can I help?" She asked.

"Yeah, can you just hold the door open real wide so I can get this in here?"

Annie nodded and pulled the door open to its greatest extend, excitedly bouncing around and hanging off the doorknob.

"What's that? A TV? Is it for us? Where'd you get it? Was it expensive?" She rattled off a million questions as I dragged the wagon over the raised threshold.