Ficly

Thomas

“Thomas Avery Sade.”
When Thomas (occasionally Thom, never Tom) heard his name being called, he immediately assumed that the voice belonged to his teacher. But when he looked up from his lined, college ruled, notebook paper filled with mindless doodles and flicked his dark brown hair away from his eyes, his teacher did not look at him with the usual expectant gaze. Slightly confused, but not very bothered, he went back to looking at his paper.
Then he felt someone poking him in the back, lightly. He furrowed his brow in confusion; he didn’t sit in front of anyone. His curiosity getting the best of him, he turned his upper body slowly to face the source of the poking.
He found himself face to face with a small girl; their faces at the same height even though he was sitting his chair and she was standing. She had grey eyes, with a hint of baby blue. Not only that but she had long, white hair – but she didn’t look old, an elementary schooler even.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“I’m an angel,” she replied bluntly.

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