A pixie-angel lands on my shoulder. It has golden hair and golden wings. It has a delicate face, like if you even look at it for too long, you might break it. It’s wearing a sparkling dress that looks like it’s made of water. A tear gently rolls down her cheek and to the edge of her face. It stays there a moment, just wobbling between skin and gravity. She blinks, and the tear falls. But it doesn’t fall onto my shoulder. No, her dress is not made of water, but of tears. It is made of all the tears she has ever shed in her pixie-angel lifetime.

I look at her eyes for the first time. They are slightly large for her face, but what else would you expect from a pixie-angel? They’re a deep shade of amber with specks of gold. And when the sun catches her eyes at just the right angle, they turn deep burgandy.They’re intense, like if she hated you, she could burn holes right through you with her eyes. But I can tell that she could never hate anybody.

I decide to name her Tessa. Tessa Sieneca LaRoug`e.