I once thought I saw an angel, sitting on my windowsill. A shimmering image of pale silver, at once delicate and ethereal.

He sat there for hours upon hours, not minding the cold winter chill.

He never spared me a glance, just looked outside the window, and up to the heavens. As if he was waiting, waiting for an omen of some sort. I might have never been in the room at all, for all the attention he gave me.

I have seen the view he was gazing at a thousand times. I was bedridden since I was five and could do naught but sit in bed and stare at the window. Again. and again.

The view was magnificent, especially at sunrise when the rose-colored dawn kissed the sky. But even it's beauty began to pall after a long while.

I waited, not making a sound. And he stared at the sky with those brilliant silver eyes.

Gazing at nothing seemed not to bother him, but it did to me. I stood up with much difficulty, my knees were weak and would not stop shaking, and crept quietly towards him.

The effort it took to simply walk the short distance from my bed to the window left me panting. Clutching at the thick cream curtains to steady myself, I asked in my thin whispery voice what business he had here.

He looked at me with those incredible silver eyes, so deep and full of emotions that I could not define. His lips curved in a small sad smile but said nothing. He held my gaze for a moment, then seemed to forget that I was there at all. His gaze returned to the sky.

I was still there, giving every effort to stay on my feet. My feeble knees could take no more, I crumpled down and sat on the floor, my head resting on the wall beside me.

I closed my eyes, to rest them a bit. So tired I was, so weak and pathetic.

Hours passed. He was still there. The sun was high in the sky, the glaring brightness of early morn.

And he stilled raised his eyes up high, like the glare of the sun was nothing.

My nurse found me leaning against the wall. With her gentle hands she lifted me back to bed, and scolded me for doing something so stupid. I should know better, she said. In my condition, I was not allowed to do strenuous activities like walking. Strenuous to me anyway. My heart couldn't take it.

The nurse gave no notice of the young man with silvery wings on the window.

I slept the rest of the day away but every time I open my eyes, I checked to see if he was there. Yes, he had not moved. Not at all.

Nightfall came, and with it came the shadows. I used to hide under my blanket at night because they scared me so. Not now, his presence seemed to bring me to peace, and deep inside me I found courage.

When the night was deep, I looked to him once more. To my surprise, he looked directly back.

He stood up from his vigil, and walked so gracefully he might have been floating. He stood beside my bed and leaned down. He lifted one pale hand and stroked my cheek.

His hands were smooth and cool. And I felt the hurts melt away from my bones.

I questioned him not. I feel I did not have the right too.

I felt his wings enclosing me, all six of them. Like it was only me and him. And it was.

I looked up to him to smile but the sadness in his eyes stopped me.

He leaned closer to me to whisper, "I'm sorry, but I was sent to bring you back today."