Joan paced the length of the hotel room, staring at the floor. Her head spun with the possibilities of the human world that lay before her. Finally she collapsed to the floor, clutching her head in agony. These humans, their world was so different than the one she had come from, she had forgotten their trivial lifestyle. There were things that she missed about being human, about being alive. There was no liviness in her world. She felt it all to be dull and colorless. She stood and paced again, her wing tips brushing the wall. As long as she had wings, God could hear her every thought and communicate with her every second. Her eyes widened at a sudden impulse and she grabbed her dagger off of the bed. Fuck you and your colorless world, God. I'd rather dine in Hell.The room began spinning and blood rushed to her wings, or rather where they used to be. As soon as the second wing was removed, the room exploded with the burst of golden light. It was done. No more wings, no more communication with God. She was an immortal in the mortal world. She tried to stand, staggering, her bloody hand grasping the door knob and twisting it. From there she fell to the sidewalk outside of the hotel, her eyes closing slowly, her world darkening as she fell into a surreal slumber.