Bright white light flooding the room and I’m sitting up in bed like a stunned roo waiting for the bullet. It’s 4am and as dark as it gets outside, that milky shade of blue – not bright enough to have my eyes squinting like two wretched asterisks. A hand. An outstretched palm, to be precise. This floodlight is some freaky shit. I follow the palm up to an arm clad in white robes and find a face framed with white light, grinning. An amused expression plays over sharp, androgynous features and wide, white eyes, tight black curls spilling foppishly over a soft, dark brow. I take the hand. I lean in, and I run my tongue all the way up this angel’s outstretched arm. I had expected it to taste like fog, like a fresh mist, but it’s unmistakeable. Eating a Reese’s cup is like giving an angel a hug with your tastebuds, and licking an angel is just like eating a Reese’s cup.