It was almost 6 p.m. on Tuesday, a warm April day in Los Angeles. Rodney was knocking on the door of his best friend’s house. Kim’s little sister answered it.

“Hey Soo, oh, I mean Sue,” Rodney said to the sixteen-year-old girl.

“You know they sound the same, right?” she retorted. “You are so cringy.”

Kim’s whole name was Soo-Hee Kim, and his sister was named Soo-Ah Kim. Kim’s first-grade teacher never really grasped the concept that Korean surnames are listed first. So, she tagged Soo-Hee with “Kim.” It stuck. When Kim got older, he didn’t want to be confused with his sister, Soo-Ah, so he let everyone keep calling him by his last name.

His sister wasn’t so accommodating. She wanted an American name, so she pestered her parents into changing her first name to Sue, which of course sounds exactly like Soo, but is for some reason, easier for Americans to pronounce. Rodney had known her since she was two, so it was hard for him to make the switch in his head, even though he never really had to.

Knowing Rodney wasn’t here to visit her, Sue said, “He’s in his room,” while pointing down the hall and walking away.

“Thanks,” said Rodney, following the hallway to its end. He burst into his friend’s room and closed the door behind him. Barook floated through the closed door and settled into a quiet conversation with Koram, Kim’s guardian angel.

“You are not gonna believe what I just saw,” Rodney said, flopping backwards onto Kim’s bed. Kim was sitting at his desk.

“Do tell,” said Kim, closing his laptop and turning his full attention to his freaked-out friend.

“Drugs are bad, dude,” said Rodney staring at the ceiling.

“Yeah. We knew that already, dude.”

“No, I mean really, really bad.”

“What happened? Give me the deets. Did the demon inject you with heroin or something?”

“What? No! No, it wasn’t that bad. He tried to get me to smoke pot. But when I went to the collective, I saw all these demons getting into people through their hookahs. It was cray cray. I had no idea that drugs were a gateway for demon possession. It was awful. I got out of there as fast as I could.”

“Well, I didn’t know that either, but now that you say it, it kinda makes sense. I mean, the whole point of pot and alcohol and meth and stuff is to check out mentally, obvi. So, I guess when you do that, you leave yourself vulnerable. That’s really scary.”

“It scared me straight, man.”

“You were already straight. You’ve never done drugs in your life.”

“Yeah, but still.”

“Calm down, buddy. You’re safe now. Is he gone? The Jude Law guy?”

“Yeah, he’s gone. He took off when I started singing praise songs.”

“Well, that’s a neat trick. You should keep that in your back pocket for when things get too intense. Do you think he’s coming back?”

“I have no idea. I hope not. I mean, he’s chill, but he also makes me so nervous.”

“You’ve only spent like, an hour, with him. How bad can it be?”

“You have no idea.”

“I guess I don’t. But you have your angel with you, right?”

“Bazooka? Yeah, he’s here. He’s talking to your angel.”

“Well, isn’t he helping you out? Can’t he answer some of your questions? I mean, if I were you, I’d be asking him all kinds of questions. Like, what is heaven like? Has he seen the face of God? Does he know the future? Does he understand why we all are so fragile and pathetic? Why don’t we see miracles more oft—”

“Stop!” screamed Rodney. “I can’t even! It’s all too much!”

“Whoah. Just try to relax. No more questions, I promise. What do you need? What do you want to do?”

“Can we just play Call of Duty for an hour?”

“Sure. And I’ll ask my mom if you can stay for dinner.”

“What are you having?”

“Bulgogi.”

“I’m starting to feel better already,” said Rodney, his face relaxing into a smile at the thought of Kim’s mom’s sweet, marinated, grilled beef over sticky white rice.