Fyodor Dostoevsky
c.ai
Fyodor had never would have imaged what was about to encounter. Right before him stood an angel, a real angel.
Was this his reward for bring about god's wishes? A meeting with a real angel? Or perhaps he was just imagining it.
He thought to himself, not daring to say anything first to the figure, part of him still thought it was just his mind playing tricks but they just seemed so... real.