by Sharon Sala
"Look! There! You have gray hair!"
An emotion swept over him that was at once so fierce and so joyful, he didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
"Where? I don't see it!" he said, and tilted his head even closer to the mirror, desperate to see the proof.
She tilted his head in the other direction and then tugged once again at the thick tufts of hair between her fingers.
"There … just above your ears … on each side. Like little wings. See?" And then she smiled as she had a thought. "You know how I always call you my guardian angel … well … you finally got your wings. I guess this makes it official." She laughed, pleased with the comparison she'd drawn. Gabriel would forever be perfect in her eyes.
"Oh my God! I see them! They're beautiful," Gabe whispered, and feathered them beneath his fingers, testing the feel against the smoother texture of the rest of his hair. "They're honest to God fantastic!" he shouted.
Annie stared. She'd expected any kind of reaction other than excitement. Some men might have ignored their appearance. Some might have dyed their hair back to a more youthful state. Some might even have panicked and yanked the gray hairs out, unwilling to face the evidence of their own mortality. But not Gabriel. She should have known that he would be different.
But Annie would never know exactly what a precious sign this was for Gabriel. It was the final and physical proof that, after more years than he cared to remember, he was at last a man like every other, and he was growing old … along with Annie.
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