fernitron
I never was religious, I was never fully sure of the existance of a God, let alone angels. But when he smiled at me, I understood the intent. I understood why people feel the need to believe in something like angels. Because there's a feeling, there's a feeling that's like nothing else you've felt before. It's like being touched by an angel, when he smiles it's like being touched by an angel.
I rang the doorbell and immediately regretted it. What the fuck was I doing? What would this accomplish? It had been months since he'd even spoke to me, hell, it had been months since I had stopped caring (had I?). He opened the door and a huge smile graced his face when he saw it was me. "Hey!" He hugged me awkwardly and I had no idea what to do. "How are you? I've been meaning to talk to you. Would you like some tea?" He ushered me inside his house and left towards the kitchen to prepare some tea while I waited for him in the sitting room. I tried to compose myself because my face probably looked like I had seen a ghost. I plastered on a smile and tried to quench the butterflies that were starting to upset my stomach. What had I come here to do? Honestly, I really wanted to punch the bastard, I wanted him to yell at me, I wanted to yell at him and then punch his face. That would've been fine. But no, he had to go and be all welcoming. Maybe I'll just punch him anyway.
In other words, everything looked delicious. The banquet, the people, the high ceilings, the intricate patterns carved on the wooden chairs. Everything spoke grandeur, everything seemed to fit together like a puzzle. Except me. I was the odd one out.
I tried hard to dismiss his features, he was the kind of person you fell in love with by listening to them speak. Watching his lips move didn't do me any favours, I wasn't understanding any of what was coming out of them.