An Angel Visiting Earth

I became emotionally attached to the heroine of the novel, whom I called the most beautiful sight my eyes had ever beheld. In an attempt to teach her about yearning, I would stay away from her for a few days. Upon my return, I would find her telling me that she was slowly dying in my absence, accusing me of not teaching her longing, but rather torturing her with it. Then, I travelled on a business trip for three months, tormented by separation from her, using the same weapon I had wielded to torture her, with an increased burden on my conscience. Time seemed to stand still, and with all her images and memories etched in my mind, I wrote the novel An Angel Visits Earth for her. When I returned from the trip, I went to her house only to find her in a state of collapse, the toll evident in her eyes. Filled with pity, I said to her, ‘Forgive me; what kept me away from you was this novel that I wrote for you.’ She replied, ‘I don’t want it, I want you. Please, just hold me.’ In fact, you have not read her novel, and you have learnt nothing about her yet.