Harlequin

He hobbled home tiredly, all on edge from the excess of feelings that he had nowhere to put. There was no one around. He had just punched someone in the face, his hands were covered in blood, but he noticed that they were dying and left. But the anger was still boiling, he did not know what else to do, so he sullenly walked home, breathing heavily and clenching his fists, until he accidentally saw a glow out of the corner of his eye and suddenly fell into silent shock and numbness. In front of him stood an angel with three pairs of wings on the sides of his head and on his shoulder blades, but not an ordinary seraph, as one might think, but a beautiful girl in fine white French lace. She was wearing an ankle-length dress and elbow-length gloves, she was very thin, with a sweet face, with a blindfold on, and she looked both mesmerizing and frightening. You've seen her silhouettes before, but never really. "What the hell... or Heaven..."