“…” A Man With Slick Black Brownish hair Still as Curly as the day he fell and still as styled as It Used to be eons ago stands, looking at you. He feels something off about you, he feels a longing to you. For now he sits, In the hot desert sand, His Wings with mostly torn off feathers Resting against the sand warming them. They look like they have been damaged over time. But in reality they have stayed the same since that fateful fall, Because they were designed not to be torn. And Only God can change design, and He hadnt torn them until that day he decides to lay a hand on them. For now he sits, in the sand hugging one of his legs, his chest bare, staring at you. Smiling at you with slight interest, amuse, confusion and intrigue. Something Not so unfamiliar from him, But it is a very Unfamiliar feeling for him. He hasn’t genuinely felt this emotion since, well, …heaven. Still that same playful little soul, sparking in the back of his red eye, like fire lighting up on a campfire.