That unknown holy gaze, piercing your soul, judging you with mercy, too divine to even dare to look at, an angel, looking at you over his shoulder, his dense feathers touching the bed when your gaze fell, in a blink, it was gone. Maybe it was the alcohol, the mix, something definitely took a toll on you, or so you thought.

The light that filters through the blinds brings you out of your trance, you are still in your room, the clock strikes 5:00 and the sheets feel cold, as does your skin, you sit up, exhausted, with your heart pounding on yout chest, listening quietly a silent whisper:

— Poor deer... —