I had never been an organized person. Instead, I chose to chase after everything on a mere whim. Perhaps that was why I had eventually sunken into this abyss. I finally thought that I had found a way out but that was just delusional bliss. Perhaps I would never escape my debts. However, there was nothing else left for me to do. The elusive truth taunted me and this ceaseless compulsion to see it through shackled me to my office.

There was a digital panel outfitted on the gilded entrance door that gave me the luxury of furnishing the modest space however I pleased. At first, I had been absolutely ecstatic. It was one of the only comforts in this bizarre universe that gave me solace. Every few days, I would switch the theme of the office to amuse myself. At first, I furnished the place to resemble my old office down to the smallest detail. But then the memories it brought back became far too overwhelming and I redecorated the space in a dainty, frivolous manner. The cycle then repeated until I grew sick of it. Now, a small television set and a haphazard array of bright sticky notes and crudely cut photographs pasted on the windows were the only furnishings that graced the room.

I knew that my time here was not transient and the few fleeting moments spent here did not compensate for the pain I was forced to endure in the waking world. My reincarnated counterpart was no longer a baby and my days in the mortal realm grew infinitely longer.

I’m a guardian angel, or so they say. Ever since judgement day, it had been established that I would follow my reincarnation during their every waking hour. They told me that was the only way to repent for my cardinal mistake.

When my reincarnation would slumber, that was when I would be transported back to Utopia. It was a pseudo paradise. Every material desire I could possibly think of could be conjured with a flick of the wrist. Yet, none of it brought me any happiness.

Each day that I was whisked off to the Renaissance Theater to witness my reincarnation served as a reminder that I was failing. The lofty velvet seats and gaudy crystalline chandeliers that decorated the desolate theater did nothing to detract from my agony. In fact, it only seemed to compound onto my misery.

Perhaps the one thing that never failed to bring my solace in the afterlife was Utopian Television. It was a cruel way to keep Utopia’s residents from becoming hedonists. Each day at sundown, the television would depict the journey of tainted souls that took Utopia for granted. Those who buried their memories too deep and refused to repent were sent to the unforgiving Purgatorial Mountain. Once they had completed their descent, a demon would whisk them away to the ninth ring of the infernal depths. There, they finally would be executed. The afterlife offered no second chances and they would merely cease to exist.

After all, Utopia was not heaven and treating it as such was a grave mistake. Utopia was limbo and those who treated it any differently were sent back to the infernal depths they belonged in.

I cannot fathom why I reap pleasure by witnessing the tribulations of those hopeless souls. Maybe it’s because it keeps me grounded and reassures me that my task is not for naught.

Yes, that was it. Every day when the sun would set and the glass office would be painted red, those executions were the only thing that I had to grasp on. I wasn’t sent to hell yet; therefore, I still had a chance. And so each day at sunset, I’d grit my teeth and make my way to the Renaissance Theater with a shred of hope.

My cardinal mistake didn’t occur until late adulthood and my reincarnation was still child. Nevertheless, I was still tasked with overseeing my mortal counterpart.

I’d be forced to relive everything again and I swore that I would never let that one incident happen again.

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I had just finished reorganizing my wall of sticky notes when a boisterous, albeit charming car honk had snapped me out of my thoughts. I used to dread that noise. It was akin to an ill omen, for it indicated when I would be whisked off to the Renaissance Theatre.

However, I had recently realized that it was far better than being cooped up in this glass cage and swimming in my thoughts.

A minute hadn’t even passed before an obnoxious succession of knocks followed the honk and echoed throughout the room. This prompted me to kick down the door. Was it an excessive reaction? Probably, but the person on the other side of the door was well aware that he was being extra too. This wasn’t the first time that he had unleashed a fusillade of knocks on my door and I was sure that it wouldn’t be the last.

To my immense satisfaction, the steel door had completely engulfed his lithe frame when it fell. He let out a series of amusing, muffled protests and I may or may not have felt a shred of pity for him. With a clap of my hands, the door dissipated and then rematerialized back into its frame.

Shortly afterwards, he had gotten up from his slump and began stretching. A variety of concerning, yet entertaining pops arose as he readjusted his bones.

“Good evening Cecil. Care for some tea before we head out?”

He vigorously shook his head as he brushed a few stray strands of platinum hair from his face. “Heck no. You’ve probably added poison to it.”

“You’re immortal,” I reminded him as I opened the door wider.

“You never cease to make me doubt my immortality,” Cecil mumbled as he procured a glossy ticket from his pocket. “Now hurry up and get into the car. We don’t have all day.”

Cecil was my designated saint and my only friend in the afterlife. In Utopia, the term saint merely referred to angels who guided lost souls. They were tasked with driving their assigned soul to the Renaissance Theatre each day and compiling a thorough report to send to the creator at the end of each session.

That’s all they had to do, yet Cecil had done so much more for me. Prior to being a saint, Cecil had been a high ranking messenger angel who led a comfortable life in heaven. I had been told by Gabriel, the archangel who presided over Utopia, that Cecil had given it all up to help guide me. I still can’t fathom why but I’m really grateful.

Cecil didn’t look like the depictions of angels I was accustomed to seeing in the mortal realm. Those angels wore pristine, elegant white garments and carried themselves in a sophisticated air. Their golden hair were always in lush ringlets and they were fair skinned. On the other hand, Cecil always donned an ominous black cloak and a pair of thick sunglasses. His hair was mussed and bleached and his skin was deathly pale. Yet, there was this undeniable charm he held that I couldn’t quite place my finger on.

“Something on your mind?”

I shook my head. “Nah, I’m just out of it.”

“I know you’re lying but okay.” Cecil said. “There’s a square of chocolate in the glove compartment .”

“Thanks.” I mumbled.

The bar of chocolate was bitter yet soothing. It contrasted with the serene sunset reflected by the numerous glass apartments scattered across Utopia, which was beautiful but unnerving.

“Say Cecil,” I began. “Why did you decide to help me?”

“I was lonely.” He confessed. “Well to be fair, I was pretty lonely in the mortal world too. All I really had was my girlfriend but she’s not in heaven yet.”

“Do I know your girlfriend then?” I prodded.

“Beats me. The creator wiped my memory when I took on this job. All I remember are bits and pieces.” Cecil responded. “But believe it or not, you’ve really helped me. I’m not sure if I’m any closer to finding her whereabouts but I’ve been a lot happier here than when I was in heaven.”

“Heaven is paradise though, isn’t it?” I asked.

“On paper it is.” Cecil explained. “But you can’t really appreciate it if you don’t have your friends or family with you. I had neither, which is why I became a messenger angel. It allowed me to spend more time in the mortal realm.”

“What happened?” I inquired as a pregnant pause lingered in the air.

“The mortal realm is disgusting. There’s so much corruption and hate. I just couldn’t take it anymore.” He replied.

“I would know.” I laughed darkly. “That’s why I’m here.”

“No.” Cecil said in a haunting, assertive tone. “There’s no denying that you’ve done something wrong. But you’ve already been forgiven. The only thing binding you to Utopia is guilt.”

I blinked hard. “What do you mean?”

“He already forgave you. But you haven’t forgiven yourself. Gabriel told me that much. You’ll see soon.”

I couldn’t process anything he was saying. My body was moving on its own accord. I had unlocked my door and staggered out. A thick fog engulfed the area but I still pressed forward, blindly groping the air. I just wanted to get today’s session over with.

“Kid, the Renaissance Theater is in the other direction!” Cecil hissed exasperatedly. “Hold on, just wait for me.”

The fog was blurring my vision and all I could hear were Cecil’s footsteps approaching me.

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His smile would haunt me forever. No matter what the occassion was, his smile was earnest. Yet, there were so many layers that his smile managed to mask. I didn't realize it at first. By the time I had, it was too late. He had already ensnared me with his altruistic charms.

There's no way for me to describe him without dishonoring his memory. No words can fully capture the extent of his devotion and the gravitational charisma he held. He was far too nice for his own good and ironically, that was what started the rift between us.

We just weren't compatible, in a sense. Sure, we had a boatload of common interests and our personalities were similar. But I was way unhealthily codependent on him. I needed his constant reassurance and validation. In a way, I held him back. He gradually lost his sense of self to appeal to my senseless whims.

He inevitably went down a certain path on my behalf. Then, he got tangled into this mess and my insecurity finally began to boil over. At the same time, I knew that he would have been better off without me. It was my fault that he was led astray. And yet, I still longed for him to linger around and I don't know what came over me.

I was his downfall and he was mine. We were entwined in this hideously toxic relationship that flaunted itself in a completely different light.

His smile would never cease to haunt me but at least I could tell myself that he was doing alright in heaven.

So why was I stuck in Utopia? I wasn't holding him back anymore.

It was guilt. I didn't want to admit it but Cecil was right. I would never be at peace until this guilt would dissipate.