Immanence.

All God.

All complete.

Everywhere.

In everything.

Leit Atar panuy mi-neya, as her father was often wont to say.

(No site is devoid of it.)

Ein Sof.

The Unending.

‘I starved you out, damn you!’ Avigail groans, then – using every inch of her remaining power – she hurls herself over a low garden wall and crouches there.

Hiding.

Hiding from Ein Sof.

Which is impossible. And ridiculous. But she’s been doing it her entire life.

Because Ein Sof allows free will.

That’s the whole point.

Isn’t it?

Time – obligingly – passes (and also – quite unhelpfully – stands still).

‘Avigail …? Um. Hello? Avigail?’

It is Charles. He has followed Avigail down the road.

Please don’t let that be Charles, Avigail thinks.

Although who else could it possibly be?

She opens her eyes. It is Charles.

Charles has been illumined by Ein Sof but doesn’t yet seem to realise (the idiot).

Have I been illumined? Avigail wonders. She peers down at herself.

She can’t really tell.

Perhaps she is in denial?

Screw ‘denial’! She has no time for ‘denial’.

Avigail is a great grasper of nettles.

She likes the sting!

Is the garden wall illumined?

Yes. The wall seems illumined. Everything is illumined.

Everything is illumined.

‘Are you feeling okay, Charles?’ Avigail asks from her crouching position (opting to take the initiative).

‘I …’ Charles is about to ask Avigail why she is hiding behind a wall and then is saved from this awkward necessity by a woman coming out of the house and asking Avigail what she is doing crouching in her flowerbed.

The woman is illumined.

‘Oh, hi.’ Avigail rises to her feet. ‘I am searching for evidence,’ she announces, with a slight air of foreboding.

‘Evidence?’

The garden is illumined.

‘A client of mine was injured by an oyster shell which was dropped by a seagull and I am looking for that oyster shell. As evidence. She has a head wound. It’s quite serious, actually.’

The woman silently processes this information.

The cottage is illumined.

‘If you happen to see a bloodied oyster shell – here, in the local vicinity – I’d be incredibly grateful if you could contact me.’

Avigail hunts around in her handbag and pulls out a business card.

‘Here’s my card.’ She points. ‘My name is Avigail. A-vi-gail. These are my contact details: mobile, email …’

She strides towards the woman and hands her the card. The woman takes the card.

The business card is illumined.

Am I illumined? Avigail wonders.

Damn you! Damn you, Ein Sof!

The illumined woman thanks Avigail for the illumined business card.

‘Thank you,’ Avigail responds. ‘And sorry for the … you know … disturbance.’

She takes the woman’s hand and shakes it, ceremoniously.

Yes. Extremely cordial. Utterly measured. Very calm. Perfectly normal.

She then strides back towards Charles. Out through the gate this time. She clicks the latch shut with a distinct touch of brio.

The latch is illumined. Click-ick-ick-ick. It sings.

‘Are you all right, there, Charles?’ she asks again.