Peter

Tap, tap, tap. Our shoes echoing on the hard, linoleum floor. It feels like a dance floor in the middle of the sky. Olivia crouches down. She attempts to see through the ankle high clouds. " What are you doing?" I ask. "Trying to see." She responds. "Someone could step on you." "Nobody's here." She continues gazing through the clouds. "What are you doing, child?" A voice asks. "I already told you." Olivia says. "That wasn't me." I tell her. She looks up to see a man wearing a white suite. He has a grey beard and sits behind a massive, wooden desk. He shoots us a friendly smile. "Who are you?" I ask, walking up to him. The man stands up. "The name's Peter." "As in Saint Peter?" Olivia says with a sideways look of confusion. " I wouldn't call myself a Saint. That's like calling one self a genius. It's a bold statement." "What exactly is your business?" I ask. "Oh well, I have a book, see?" He points to a gigantic open book on his desk. The pages are yellowed with time. "Then when someone, such as yourselves come up to me, I skim my book to see if their names are in it." "This seems awfully familiar." Olivia says. "So you folks have been to this nutritional wellness bookshop before?" He asks. "What? This isn't heaven?" I say, confused. "Heaven? I suppose some folks could look at it that way. That is when you get your body and mind in the right place." "But, you're name is Peter." Olivia declares. "Huh? Oh yes, good name isn't it?" "It is, but it seems an odd coincidence that your name is Peter and you're outside a wellness bookshop. Much like Saint Peter outside the gates of heaven." I explain. " No coincidence. Those who have names, such as myself almost have biblical traits." "So, you're saying that if someone were named David he would kill a giant?" I say. "No, but he may gain a certain amount of power. Then he would fall, and he would fall hard." Olivia and I look at each other. "Fair enough." She says. "I think I know where you are going with this. I don't think our names show up anywhere in the bible. So we're just turn around." "Hold on. What are they?" He asks. "Olivia." "Scott." Peter rubs his beard. "Olivia, very pretty name. Means Olive branch. I don't think it shows up anywhere. Though I'm not certain. However, I'm almost positive there are no Scotts." We look down trodden and start to turn away. "I could still admit you for a small price." He tells us. Olivia and I search our pockets. We can't seem to find much money. I realize I still have the camera. I take it off my shoulder and hand it to him. " My goodness. I have not seen one of these in ages. Yes, this will do." Peter places the camera in a drawer. "Come, I will show you around."