Everyone in Their Place

I

The angel of death made its way through the festa, and nobody noticed.

It passed close to the wall of the church, which was still decorated from that morning’s religious celebration; by now, though, night had fallen, and the sacred had given way to the profane. A bonfire had been set in the middle of the piazza, in keeping with tradition, even though the brutal heat of August left everyone breathless, and no one needed those flames dancing over the pile of old wood that every family in town had contributed.

But the flames proved useful to the angel of death, casting the shadows of couples as they danced merrily to the sound of tambourines, guitars, and clapping hands, accompanied by the shouts of children and the whistles of strolling vendors. The angel hadn’t foreseen it, but it knew that divine justice would intervene in some way. A firecracker exploded, followed by another. Midnight was approaching. A fat perspiring woman pretended to faint, and the man next to her laughed. The angel of death brushed past him, touching his elbow, but the man didn’t even shiver: it wasn’t his turn, not that night.

Skirting the edge of the piazza in a nondescript black outfit, there was nothing about the angel that could’ve attracted notice, save perhaps the sadness of the downcast eyes and the slight droop of the shoulders. That too was something it had counted on.

It reached the front door of the palazzo and for a moment feared it might have been locked for the festa; but no, it had been left open just a crack, as always. The angel of death slipped inside, shadowlike, as the tarantella built to a crescendo and the crowd accompanied the dance with song and applause and firecrackers crackled, keeping time to the music. It knew just where to hide. It reached the narrow gap behind a pillar, took up a position, and settled in to wait.

Its hand slid into its pocket and touched the cold metal, but it brought no comfort. Nor did the courtyard’s solitary shadows bring comfort of any kind.

Nothing did, except the thought of the justice that would soon be meted out.