empty bottles, filling heartsempty bottles, filling hearts by yourhysteria--
No one would ever forget the night when William the White walked into the hospital supporting the orphaned boy named Angel. Angel was half-naked as usual, and his foolish artificial wings flapped incessantly on his back as Will supported him mostly by the belt hanging off his narrow hips. They staggered up the paint-peeling wooden steps to the hospital, Angel in a drunken stupor and obviously beyond fighting, if it was that he would be fighting in the first place. He kicked a flower pot over and then jumped at the loud clatter when it broke spilling dark soil and freshly planted mums all over the little porch. Then together they pulled open the storm door and stepped inside the semi-sterile hospital—or rather, Angel attempted to push open the storm door, and Will had to yank his light frame away and steer him inside.
William the White was known and respected because he was heir of his family clan. The great woolen, perfectly white coat he always wore had been passed through his family