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initiate any contact with him.
    “Different things.” And, when she didn’t offer anything else, “I used to draw portraits, but now I’m doing some other stuff.”
    “Hmm.”
    “Do you wanna see?”
    With a hesitant look, she pulled each sleeve of her sweatshirt down over her hands. Her fingers curled around them, making two soft fists. “Okay, I guess.”
    He handed her his sketchpad and she held it up. Her eyes grew wide and her lips parted, letting her mouth fall open slightly. Did she like it? Or was she just confused?
    “What do you think?”
    “Umm, yeah, it’s…really good.”
    “Thanks.” He went to take the sketchpad back, but she pulled it closer. She was studying it carefully. Her eyes darted randomly from spot to spot. He squinted back down at it himself, soaking in the bright color that filled the page. His own eyes traced the lines of the fountain and the water spurting up from it that was neither clear nor blue but made up of many shades. Her finger followed one of the streams that shot out of the fountain and came to a rest in the basin, which held a tranquil pool of color.
    “What is this?” she asked.
    “It’s where I’m from.”
    “Where?”
    “Heaven.”
    The sketchpad fell from between her fingers and landed in her lap. In a flurry of movement she rushed to pick it up again and hand it back. Her fingers brushed against his by accident as he reached out to meet her hands. Although she pulled away quickly, he recorded the sensation in his mind; it felt electric.
    “Umm…uh, thanks for sharing.” She found the page she had dog-eared and started reading again.
    It would be best to leave her alone for now. He didn’t want to push her away. If he was ever going to do what he was sent to do, he couldn’t alienate her.
    “What are you doing here?” she burst out, almost making him drop the sketchpad. “Why are you wasting this?”
    “What do you mean?” He wrinkled his forehead, trying to understand.
    “You’re so good.” She motioned toward the drawing. “You could do anything. Why are you wasting your time here, telling everyone crazy things you make up?”
    “It’s not exactly my choice to be in this—place.” His voice was dry again.
    “I don’t understand why you can’t just keep your delusions to yourself.” Her voice grew louder. “Then you wouldn’t have to be here.”
    “I’m not delusional. And I’m not going to lie to myself or anyone else.”
    “You seriously think you’re an angel?”
    “I am.” He wouldn’t betray any emotion.
    “Oh yeah? Well, where are your wings?”
    “I don’t have any.”
    “Then how can you call yourself an angel if you don’t have wings?”
    “Not all angels have wings.”
    “That’s just stupid.” She was getting all worked up, and he liked it. His flippant attitude seemed to make her angrier by the second.
    “So then what makes you an angel?”
    “The fact that I am.” He could tell her annoyance was maxed out.
    “Why can’t you give me a straight answer?”
    “That’s all I’m giving you.”
    “Forget it.” She grabbed her book violently and began reading again.
    “So why are you here?” he asked.
    “Because I am.”
    “Oh.” He laughed. “Do you want to expand on that?”
    She glared at him hard. “We’re not talking about me.” She slammed her book closed, got up, and almost ran out of the common area.
    “Good to know,” he said to himself. He’d made her angry, but that was a good thing. If she didn’t care about what he was saying, she would have just ignored him. He picked up the blue pastel and continued to work on heaven.
     

Chapter Four
     
     
    Anna was confused when she woke up. For a fraction of a second, she had forgotten where she was. The poster hanging on the wall across from her bed wasn’t there. It took her a few seconds to realize that it wasn’t the poster that had disappeared from her room. It was her.
    As the reality of where she was sunk back in, she squeezed her