Seven year old little Damian ran home after his encounter with her, rushed to his room and shut the door. Once safely inside his personal aquarium with P.J. (his cat), he sat next to the angel fish tank on the stone floor. P.J played with his untied shoe lace, getting into a crouch and pouncing, "Why couldn't I do that today?" He thought, watching his orange kitten pounce again. Damian was in the position, one swift movement and her reign tyranny over his heart would end. Alas he couldn't do it, he sat there watching her play in the sand with dolls, her white-blonde hair was curled today. 'Damn those curls' Damian thought, 'so beautiful and delicate', like the angel fish in the tank above him. Like one of the angel fish in particular he remembered, pure white with blue freckles, the tail translucent when the fish was swimming. The only difference between the girl and the fish was that the fish didn't make Damian feel like he had eaten Butterflies for breakfast.