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Did you ever encounter a word that so wholly and completely described a person?

Well, of course you have, but I meant a little less superficially than that.

At first, I was almost certain she was an angel. A delicate, azureus-eyed, porcelain doll with hair like zero-g fire and invisible wings. I was sure that if I squinted hard enough, or looked at the right angle, I might catch the moonlight diffracting. Or if I caught her early enough the morning mist, that so frequently rolls off the Atlantic, might dew on her wings. I never did, she always caught me staring, and she never was an early riser. There's still a space on her back where her wings ought to be.

A Seraph.

The more I came to know her, the more the word began to fit.

She wasn't a bad person, perhaps it was her fall from grace that made her cold. Like the glacier-blue of her eyes.

She would burn those that tried to get close. Not by design, but not without inaction either, just by her nature. Moths would be drawn to her, inexplicably. I still bear my burns.

I don't know if she burned people because she was cold, or if she was cold because she burned people. Either way, her eyes never really sparkled. Sometimes, on the dance floor, she'd lose herself to the music, and I liked to think she'd forgotten herself and was back in Elysium, just for a track.

I'm still waiting to catch a glimpse of her wings.

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