From the skies.

They say angels come from the sky, that they are mysterious, beautiful and mystical. Jeff knew one, but she had fallen from the sky.

He could still hear her words loud, ringing in his head, haunting him, like her words, her smile, her beauty her touch…

She had called him, beckoned him to their love nest, but something was wrong. She was agitated and uneasy, like a person high on cocaine, begging for more…

He knew something was wrong, and he wanted her to let it all out before he held her. He wanted to take the pain away. But she, she wanted more, did not want to talk. But he forced her, for the first time ever, he refused to let her have her way.

“You don’t want me any more and I know it. You’ve turned into Phil, seeing nothing good in me,”she had said, the pain in her voice making her sound hoarse and ugly.

It had been bad for them both whenever she drank. She believed she was no longer beautiful, desirable, when all the while he felt lucky that she could smile at him, for him.

She shouted about Phil, cried, then talked about him. She did not want him near any more. She was filth, and did not deserve anything in this world.

Filth, garbage, a whore. A married whore with a married lover.

She had to go, good bye she said, and ran out of their little home.

He heard the screams immediately after, walked out, saw a crowd gathering on the ground floor.

And there, a midst them all, lay the body of his angel, fallen from the sky.

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