Sunday sat on the plush, velvet couch of the Dreamscape Reverie lobby. It was completely empty, the only noise being the bubbles floating in the air. The angel’s wings flapped slightly while he adjusted his gloves. He was awaiting an important visitor from The Family and was growing impatient.

Finally, he heard footsteps from the hall.

“You’re late,” he snapped, standing and turning to look at the visitor. But it wasn’t who he expected.

“It's you,” Sunday hissed in contempt. “Filthy dog. Why are you here?”