The strangled light of morning filtered through the blinds of Maya's room. The room had a few scattered articles of clothing, all of which had been removed in throes of lust the previous night. The sheets were halfway hanging off the bed, but the blankets were tightly curled around the snoozing couple on the bed in the cold morning of New York.
Maya wasn't afraid her parents would walk in and see her lover, nor his clothes. They couldn't see any of that.
He has been, after all, dead for nearly five years.
The chestnut-haired girl of Italian descent yawned, squirming herself awake, feeling the warmth of Zach's skin against hers. He was still dead asleep, no pun intended, and snoring softly in her ear. This would be cute if Maya didn't have to use the bathroom so bad and if Zach's grip wasn't such a vice.
'Since when do angels sleep anyway?' she thought, managing to Houdini her way out of his arms. She brushed a few glowing white feathers from her shoulders and bust, putting her feet