For the purpose of practicality and easier imagination, I shall describe my people as 'angels,' for that is what you humans have always believed about us. However, 'angel' is only one family of my people's race. We are not all perfect.


"Andre! Play something for us!"

"Coming, Mother!"

Cello… cello… hey! Where's my bow?

"What do you mean 'coming'? Come now. We have guests. Estandre Laitue, do you hear me?"

"Yes Mother!" I opened the door. "My-"

"It's already in the hall," said Mother. "Do me a favor. Play something nice and happy. We're angels. We're supposed to-"

"Yes Mother. I'll… think of something."

Mother sighed behind my back. I am the only depressed angel in heaven. Why?

I entered the salon and took my seat, cello and bow in hand. Vainly, I tried to play something father composed for mother when he was courting her. It was a happy tune. But my music can't lie. My audience caught my melancholy quickly.

I sighed when I finished and played a recent composition, oblivious to my people's reactions.

All of them, they' pairs. Or young enough that they haven't found the one. But hoping, still hoping.

I used to be like them. I should have found her already. I'm 38-years old. The oldest solitary angel was 35 when he found his mate. Girls are younger, the oldest was 28. We guys usually start courtship at 25, but "mate for life."

Angels were never meant to be solitary. Guardian angels have wards, messengers have partners. I'm a "research angel" and I need a pair, yet I've met all the people of my kind, and none of them is she. We can't cross.

How do I know? Boys have this… Instinct. And the girl should feel an attraction that grows over the courtship stage.

It's February 14, Valentine's Day, the day of love.

Love. Is it real? Or is it an animal instinct?

"You know, you need a new environment," Father told me that evening. "You're so blessed here in heaven. Unlike those humans on earth."

"I wonder what they do on earth," I mused.

"You want to try is?" challenged Father.

"As long as my cello's with me," I looked at him levelly.

"You'll lose your wings, experience hardships," argued Mother. "Andre, think about it."

"Hardships are better than doing nothing here," I said.

So I went down to earth. A fallen angel.