Freezing from the cold wind, Angel pulled her red jacket closer around her upper body. It was February in New York City, and it hadn't stopped snowing for over five days now. It was not really an ideal weather for someone who didn't know what to do with his nights and days except drumming.

She didn't even know where she was going, she just kept on walking through Alphabet City, hoping to find some inspiration somewhere. As she reached the entrance of the club she used to go to every night until last December, her beeper went off and she stopped in her tracks, fumbling for the little pill jar of AZT in her pocket.

"AZT break", Angel whispered to herself and swallowed the pill that was supposed to help her body fight the HI virus in her blood that had been diagnosed only three months earlier. She let the jar slide into her pocket again, looking up at the bright green neon sign over her head that said "Chaos Club".

She sighed and shook her head. How ironic it was that because of the "Chaos Club", the chaos in her life had begun. She'd been visiting that club ever since her parents had kicked her out when they found out about her sexual orientation and her habit to dress up in glorious drag. She had met a group of young homosexual men who she had immediately connected with and who had led her on the wrong path.

She had quickly fallen for a guy called Sly, and she had trusted him unconditionally. They'd done drugs together – no hard drugs, Angel had never been like that – she had lived with him, slept with him, loved him – until the day Sly admitted that he had been unfaithful several times. And as if that hadn't been enough, Sly also told Angel that he had been diagnosed HIV-positive a long time before he had met her.

Angel had gotten tested immediately – and of course, given the luck in her life up to that point, she had been tested positive. Right after her diagnose she had left Sly, her circle of "friends", and had stopped using drugs. Ever since that day in December, it had only been Angel and the plastic pickle tub she used as drums.

Sh felt disgusted when she thought about the things that were going on in that club right now, and she walked away as fast as she could, trying to keep her balance in her high heels on the icy sidewalks. She reached Thompkins Square Park, one of her favorite spots in Alphabet City and not far away from her apartment, and sat down for a little drumming session.

Angel loved how free she felt when she was drumming. Her mind wandered to all kinds of places, and most of the time, she was so concentrated on her own thoughts and the drum sticks in her hands that she didn't perceive what was going on around her.

"Hey, faggot!"

She didn't even hear the group of skinheads that were nearing her from behind. "Faggot!"

This time, Angel stopped drumming and looked up, not seeing anyone in front of her.

"Look, the cocksucker heard me."

Not believing her ears, Angel turned around and saw a skinhead right in front of her, staring down at her with disgust.

"What is your problem?" she asked patiently and got up.

"You." The skinheads said, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Why?" Although he felt scared to no end, Angel tried to remain cool and strong. She didn't want to put up with ignorant people like that now.

"Because you're a dirty motherfuckin' bugger." The skinhead said and laughed.

Angel felt the anger rising inside of her. "Yeah well, at least I was born with a brain." She said and took her tub, ready to walk away, when the skinhead shoved her in the back.

Stumbling, Angel turned around and shook her head. "Why don't you just go and bug somebody else? I don't feel like talking to idiots like you right now." She said, her voice shaking.

"What if I don't go, you're gonna kick me with your heels? Or are you gonna strangle me with that tights of yours?"

"Who do you think you are?" Angel asked, not afraid anymore. No one was talking to her that way.

"Not a cocksucker like you." The skinhead said, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

"Wow, very adult." Angel replied and brought her face close to the first skinhead, looking him directly in the eye. To her surprise, she felt awfully calm inside. Maybe, she thought, because she realized that these three idiots were not worth getting angry about.

"Listen honey, I'm more of a man than you'll ever be." She paused and looked the skinhead straight in the eye. "And I'm more of a woman than you'll ever get. And now leave me alone."

The skinheads looked at Angel with his eyebrows raised, starting to laugh. "Ts, I'll go. Looks like I made the Little Princess angry."

Angel remained in her threatening position until guy walked around a corner and was out of her sight. It was only then that she noticed that her whole body was shaking and that she had dropped her pickle tub somewhere in the quarrel. Hot tears sprang to her eyes and she broke down on her knees, crying over the unfairness of people, crying over the unfairness of her life, crying because it felt good to let it all out. She had always been an optimist, and she still was, but sometimes even Angel felt exhausted.

Her shoulders were shaking, and at first, she didn't notice the small, cold hand on her left shoulder, squeezing it tightly. Between her sobs, she pulled her legs close to her upper body and rested her head on her knees, seeing the hand from the corner of her eye.

"Is everything alright?" a gentle, female voice asked, and Angel sniffed, wiping her eyes, moaning when she noticed all the mascara that had been washed over her face by his tears.

"Of course." She replied, her voice still trembling.

"I watched you handling this skinhead." The girl said, kneeling down in front of her. Angel looked at her. She was really pretty with her long, brown hair and her big, brown eyes full of compassion. She was very skinny and Angel was happy to notice that she was a Latina, just like her.

"I did great, didn't I." Angel said, pointing at her tear-stained face.

"I think you did." The girl said and wiped Angel's cheeks with her hand. "Stop crying." She ordered and pulled a tissue out of her jacket. "You are so pretty, tears just don't suit you."

Her words seemed like balm on her mental wounds, and Angel gladly accepted the tissue.

She watched him as she wiped his face, smiling comfortingly at him. "The last line you gave them was amazing." She praised and stroked a strand of Angel's black wig behind her ear.

Angel couldn't help but smile now, and she sighed. The girl smiled back and clapped her hands. "Hey, she can smile! A miracle!"

She stood up and held out her hands to help Angel get up. "Wow, you're tall." She noticed and examined Angel from head to toe. "And damn, you look better in that dress than most women would."

"Thanks." Angel said and sighed again. With every second in that girl's company, she calmed down a little bit, and she was relieved that the tears had stopped now. "I'm sorry, usually I'm very talkative."

"Oh, don't worry." The girl said and linked her arm through Angel's. "You just calm down a bit and whenever you're in the mood to talk, talk." And the girl started walking, sort of pulling Angel after her.

"Where are we going?" Angel asked.

"The Life Café. You are my date tonight." The girl replied.

"But I don't even know your name." Angel said, and the girl stopped.

She hit her forehead with her hand. "Oh, I'm so sorry." She said and shook her head. "That's so typical of me. I'm Mimi. Mimi Marquez." She said and smiled. "And you?"

"Angel."

Mimi raised an eyebrow. "Just… Angel?"

Angel smiled. "Angel Dumott Schunard."

Clapping her hands, Mimi exclaimed, "She has a name!"

Now Angel giggled. "I like you." She said and Mimi nodded.

"So do I." She paused and frowned. "Like you, I mean."

"So… the Life Café it is?" Angel asked and started to walk again. This time it was her who pulled Mimi after her.

"Yeah. Sure. We're gonna get along great." She said, and Angel nodded.

She took Mimi's cold hand and looked at her, and they both smiled, knowing that a wonderful friendship was about to start right at that moment.