Calling all angels

He blinked a few times to clear the confusion but his bemusement didn't fade. "So," he said at long last, "Um... I guess this means that Christianity is the true religion, huh?"

Lafeal chuckled. "What makes you say that?"

Caleb's mouth, permently dry it seemed, opened and closed silently. "Er, because you're an angel." It was hard to think coherently. "And, um, angels are from Christianity."

The angel clicked his tongue. "Typical humans. You assume answers to things you'll never comprehend." He floated down, took a seat on the stone wall, and closed his silver wings. A lone feather escaped and fluttered with all the beauty of falling snow, onto Caleb's foot. Lafeal tilted his head, his glorious hair sliding like water across his shoulders. "Accept that I am a higher being than yourself and think no longer on the subject."

"K." Caleb's mind tempory excused itself from those worries, too intent on memorizing the glory of the angel for a later time. Looking at Lafeal was like staring into the sun but his eyes would not turn away.

100 words exactly (onehundredwords)

The truck wheezed, burped, and made all the noises typical of a dying cow before it expired in a cloud of motor exhaust. It's owner, 22 year-old Shelia Parkington, cursed the car company, her mechanic, her exboyfriend, her mother, her father, and God, all in one long, strenuous breath.

The desert wasn't as hot as she expected, but it was bigger and more lonely than the human soul.

She looked down the empty road and then up to where the black pavement stretched out to the horizon. She picked up her purse, put on her cowboy hat and started walking.