Angel
A lesson in how to use 195 words effectively

His is my Angel. His kindness radiates in every gesture, illuminating my unworthy soul with the joy and purity he possesses. With wings outspread and halo alight, he tries to aid my beaten heart with his gentle, soul-seeing eyes that boar through me with his heavenly concern.

Look at him now. In his divinely inspired beauty, he tinkers with a being of metal that kills so readily, with such gentleness and caring. That is only how he works with worldly machines, so imagine how he works with we imperfect humans, especially the most lowly and hellish creature I call myself. He seems to favor my tattered heart to the other, purer souls of those we work with.

See how he plays music? He inspires people as his loving hand manipulates the delicate instrument to no less than perfection. I don't see how he can let me play music with him as well. He makes music sound like the Creator Himself has come down to give us a small tribute to the value of sound. His musical voice performs even better than his instrument when portraying the emotions he feels so deeply.

Trowa is my angel.