How many angels could fit on the head of a needle? The archangel, Michael, flew and pondered through the heavens, saddened by the lonely faces of all the women in their thirties. More than he could ever remember.

“My Lord?” Michael said.

“The heavenly realm is not to intervene,” God said. “I know how it saddens you … but they must find contentment in more than their female counterparts.”

Michael sighed. “Yes, my Lord.” He bowed, turned and sullenly left the presence of the almighty.

With so few living their lives in faith, and even fewer with no chance of hearing the truth, how could these women ever find contentment? It was a harsh decision. But it wasn’t one everyone shared.

Michael gathered up shards of hope, faith and truth from a long row of clear boxes. Searching around with his eyes, he pulled from his cloak, long needles that glowed green with love which he’d brewed in secret. If he was caught, he knew it would be the end of his three-million-year term as head angel.

But Michael knew he had to do something, regardless of the consequences. He stood at the door that led to the world, considering the enormity of his actions. He wasn’t just 3-million-years-old; he was 3 million and 31 – not too dissimilar to the women in the world.

He pulled his cloak tight around his body, sinking his head into his cowl, and sighed heavy with burden. This was wrong. Michael knew it. But a human’s life is precious … and short – too short. Finding a soul mate meant everything to some. Man was not meant to live alone, and so too women.

The door slid back, and the head of all the angels shot shards of hope, faith and truth to the human race. And, for a few – perhaps more than he dared – he threw invisible needles of love into the hearts of the lonely.