She has perfect brown hair and a soft face, just like the Immaculate Mother. Oh, but she has a troubled mind, like a curse from the past. Yes, and many, many sins.
She is perfect for me.
I could see her through her bedroom window, crying.
Might as well cheer her up.
I slashed my wings against the air and sped across town to where she was. I glided easily through the wall. She just sat and cried and cried and cried. I touched my forehead, then hers. A breeze issued from around us.
She can see me now.
“Emilia.” I said. “Why are you crying?”
She looked up, and started and screamed.
Ah, the scream of fear. The most usual response to a winged man standing near you.
She started shuffling through her dresser, and pulled out a knife.
She got up from her bed a charged at me.
I’ve never had someone do this drastic a thing. I mean, I look like an angel, don’t I?
Well, maybe the black wings throw people off sometimes, I suppose.