––––––––
A chill seeped into Bobby from the Angel’s hand. At first, it was like a fresh, cool blanket, but soon it grew frigid and uncomfortable. He tried to move, to get away from the Angel’s touch, but the being’s fingers elongated, filling his body with cold that sparked like a thousand matches. He opened his mouth to cry out but then there was nothing. No pain. No weakness. No exhaustion.
His breath came easy now and his limbs felt light. He opened his eyes. He was in his bed. In his house. He felt...good. Wonderful. He sat up, careful not to bump his head on the top bunk, but it wasn’t there.
“Ricky?” He crawled out of bed. Everything was different. He was taller and heavier—his hair thick and his skin warm. The room was filled with toys—baseballs, basketballs, and action figures
