I like Devon. She just meant the name, that’s all. Nothing more. But what if? Death shook himself as he walked through the closed door of his apartment. He wished he could slam it shut. Somehow that would feel better, an outlet for all his pent-up frustration. He fell onto the bed and closed his eyes. Soon enough it would be a new day with new names. His thoughts refused to stop whirling; he kept seeing Nyra’s smile when he told her about jumping into the lake. It wasn’t even his memory. He had stolen it; he had told her a lie. I never really said it was my memory, he reminded himself. I asked her if she wanted to hear a memory. I never told her it was mine. It’s semantics, really. He put his hands over his face, willing his brain to shut up. It was strange not being able to feel his own face, like his fingers rested on nothing. He rubbed his eyes hard, but couldn’t feel it. He slammed his hands down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling.
What do You think about When Death Loved An Angel?
