Put back together

St. James' Park was comparatively quiet. The ducks, who were experts in realpolitik as seen from the bread end, put it down to a decrease in world tension. There really had been a decrease in world tension, in fact, but a lot of people were in offices trying to find out why, trying to find where Atlantis had disappeared to with three international fact-finding delegations on it, and trying to work out what had happened to all their computers yesterday.

The park was deserted except for a member of MI9 trying to recruit someone who, to their later mutual embarrassment, would turn out to be also a member of MI9, and a tall man feeding the ducks.

And there were also Crowley and Aziraphale.

They strolled side by side across the grass.

"Same here," said Aziraphale. "The shop's all there. Not so much as a soot mark."

"I mean, you can't just make an old Bentley," said Crowley. "You can't get the patina. But there it was, large as life. Right there in the street. You can't tell the difference."

"Well, O can tell the difference," said Aziraphale. "I'm sure I didn't stock books with titles like Biggles Goes To Mars and Jack Cade, Frontier Hero and 101 Things A Boy Can Do and Blood Dogs of the Skull Sea."

"Gosh, I'm sorry," said Crowley, who knew how much the angel had treasured his book collection.

"Don't be," said Aziraphale happily. "They're all mint first editions and I looked them up in Skindle's Price Guide. I think the phrase you use is whop-eee. "

"I thought he was putting the world back just as it was," said Crowley.

"Yes," said Aziraphale. "More or less. As best he can. But he's got a sense of humor, too.”

***

Good Omens - Sunday