The clouds brewed over the city, embracing it in a solid grey, merging with the asphalt and the walls of the apartment buildings sprouting from the soil that was probably as grey, as plain, as incredibly docile and uninterested in very existence as the man walking through the streets. He had the high collar of his black coat pulled up over, ironically, asphalt grey scarf. His hands were deep in the shallow pockets of the coat, his nose hidden in the dull scarf, his rather long black hair attacked by the wind mercilessly. He was one with the gloomy nothing wrapped in forms of objects around him.

    It was mid December, the color festival of autumn long gone from the trees and even nature had given up against the colorless pain that was the city. It awaited snow to clean it, to wrap in the warm and gentle white hands, to cherish it until a new splash of color would attack the plain canvas of the city to begin the useless fight again, yet it didn’t come. Even the snow had given up whilst the cold that should have come with it had rushed forward, freezing everything together into a grey mess of shapes gradually turning into nothing.

    It might have been the route the man took every morning and every evening, but he didn’t even consider changing his patterns. Never in the past 3 years he had seen more than 5 people this route. Never had he seen the same person take it more than once. For him it was perfect - along thorough walk between his work and home, or rather the space he ought to call home but rather didn’t used the term for it.

    He did not hate his rather average office job with more than a decent pay. Neither did he dislike his nice apartment in a good neighborhood. The problem was in the fact he didn’t love, no, he didn’t even truly like any of it. He felt nothing. The city had swallowed his ability to feel something more than “nothing” towards the world around him and if he would be able to feel, he would be glad he didn’t have anyone to bother with the void that was in his chest, beating and calling itself a heart.

    The raven-haired man pulled the scarf higher over his nose and puffy cheeks, his hand returning to the safety of the shallow pockets, fearing a winter breeze. He lowered his gaze on the sun bleached red pavement, his black boots coming in the view once in awhile. From point A - his house - to point B - his work - was his only route and it was a routine as common as pitch black, scolding hot coffee in the morning. Everything in his life was a grey, robotic routine and if he could, if only he could, he would be sad about it.

    His footsteps were the only sound echoing around the empty streets, dim light entering the narrow streets he was maneuvering from somewhere above the roofs of apartment buildings that reminded of bee hives. Thousands, no, hundreds of thousands of work bees lived in those with only one grey purpose in life. Everything around him was still and quiet just like everything inside him and when a colossal roar came from somewhere above his body stopped moving immediately. His head shot up, looking for the source and his eyes grew wide from what they saw.

    The solid wall of cloud had parted above the houses just a block away from he was standing. A light so blinding bright came from it was as if he was staring at sun itself, yet not the light nor the noize shocked him. A figure, oddly reminding of a human, flung down through the beam coming from the sky, a loud thud ringing through the air soon after. Dogs began to bark and howl somewhere in the distance, birds scattering from the trees and as suddenly as appeared, the light tunnel disappeared.

    ‘No, you don’t care about it, TaekWoon. Just continue walking forward,’ the man tried to convince himself, yet his body had free willingly turned towards where the sound had come from. He took a step forward and then froze again - what was he doing? He wasn’t able to feel, so why did he feel like had to go there? What was so strong that it had broken through the grey nothing and attacked TaekWoon? He took another step forward before he began to run. It was an aimless run - he didn’t even know the direction he needed to take - but it didn’t stop him for a single second.

    His feet were moving on their own, his breath forming clouds in the chilly air through the scarf, his hands now not fearing the cold. It was a ridiculous attempt to break free, to ruin the routine and fight against the grey. It was an attempt to feel again and the more these thoughts settled in his mind the faster TaekWoon run until he found something, no, someone he had never even dreamed of finding.

    By all means it was a human being before TaekWoon. Two bare feet with five toes each standing on the sickeningly grey pavement, two most definitely legs hidden behind a thin looking fabric of beige linen by the looks of it. A torso athletes would envy, two very human like arms and hands gripping on the wall to keep their owner from falling, yet a face out of this world. It might have been all nothingness, all shapeless blobs of things TaekWoon was stuck with, but the face he was seeing now, even though turned in profile was beyond the vocabulary TaekWoon possessed to describe it. It was a human, an indescribably gorgeous human, before him if not… the wings.

    Two enormous, blinding white wings sprouted from the young man's back. It was not a cheap party accessory nor a high quality movie prop - those were real - real wings growing from a man’s back. The color was so pure, so untainted TaekWoon felt physical shock running through him. A color like that sti