Ji Yong's POV

I MAY BE HEAVEN-SENT, but I'm not perfect. 

I watch my girl slip the oversize Dallas Cowboys T-shirt over her pink bikini and turn in for the night. That sounds erted, I know. But I've always watched her dress, undress, shower and bathe.Then there was that one blessed weekend last August when the air conditioner broke. She spent a full day in bed buck , reading Tolkien under the ceiling fan. It's not like I look look. Not usually. What's more, it's my job to keep an eye on her 24/7.I am Sandara Park's guardian Angel (GA for short ). A newbie created after the first blast in 1945. 

Sandara is my second assignment and my reason for being. Not that she has clue one. She can't even see me. Nobody can unless I choose to show myself. That's a no-no. We GA's have our limits. Sure, we help out when we can, but not in any way that's clearly detectable... or at least traceable (I'm known to push the limits now and then). Night after night, I watch her sleep. She's restless. Always restless. I'm forever rearranging the sheets so her legs don't get tangled. Otherwise, she'll wake up. 

She doesn't get enough rest as it is. She worries about little mistakes. Or what she frets are mistakes. What other people think of her. What will happen next. All humans do. I wish they could glimpse infinity. It would make glitches like a C in algebra or nitpicking parent or being ignored by The Guy feel a whole lot less fatal. I would love to talk to Sandara. To tell her that.

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