Angela

Beads of sweat form in his forehead as he drinks water in the kitchen after his hour-long run. They roll down his temples and splash on his body and on the floor. It is then that a sudden thought strikes him. He tells his wife that had they had a daughter her name would've been Angela. He is absolutely convinced about this. His conviction is firm and resolved, to a point beyond fascination. His grandma's name was Angela, which no doubt must have been the catalyst of the thought. She has been long gone and he hardly thinks of her. And yet, at that precise moment in his kitchen, drinking water and slumped from fatigue, he becomes unexpectedly aware of her absence and of the beauty of her name.