Surely, the shark brought Glen the angel. It wasn’t something he normally would have eaten, but there, in the Yoshi Steakhouse, Glen decided to feast on a flank of the world’s oldest predator.
That night, lying down to sleep between handmade silk sheets, he closed his sake-weighted eyes and slept the greatest sleep of his life.
In his dream, he walked upon a pristine, white beach. The wet sand slid slick between his toes. The crisp blue of the clear sky lit against his eyes, so bright he had to squint to see the ocean.
There, amongst the waves, the angel walked, unlike any woman Glen had ever seen. Her feet slid over the water, unsinking. She rose and fell with the surf. Her naked skin radiated pale white, like a sun-soaked cloud on a summer day. The surf sat her gently down upon the beach, light as the ocean breeze.
Her sunrise-gold hairs floated in the breeze, her eyes were deep blue whirlpools, pulling Glen into their depths and drowning him. Every detail was a masterwork. She smiled. Glen’s soul wept.