Angel Mel swivels his chair away from his desk and leans back. The walls are covered, or more accurately, smothered in movie posters from the forties and fifties. Marlene Dietrich, Cary Grant, Katharine Hepburn, Greta Garbo, Bette Davis, Sir Laurence Olivier, Tyrone Power, and Mary Pickford, to name a few, stare with intense gazes. Outside his window, the formal gardens are only shadows in the dark sky twinkling with a million stars.
He checks his watch – 3:55 a.m. Where is that fairy anyway? Late. They are perpetually late, those unreliable creatures. Just as the thought is out of his mind, a flickering of pale wings flies in his open window to land on the arm of his chair.
Where is that fairy anyway? Late. They are perpetually late, those unreliable creatures“Good morning, Mel. Thought
