Disclaimer: not mine.
He stared at the piece of paper before him. The white piece of paper. He couldn't help but think, hey, the snow's white. He played with the corner, bending it back and forth. Clouds are white too, he thought. Then, what the hell am I doing? Rambling on to myself about what's white.
His mind wandered to the little girl that had been found dead earlier that day. His initial anger had worn off, like it always did in the end. Now, there was just sadness.
White is innocence, he mused.
Angels are white, too.