Angels Have Pink Hair

"Angels have pink hair."

That was my first thought when I saw her, the first one of them to see me as more than a potential model. Over time she became my friend, almost like a sister. We were very close throughout my time at the atelier. But there was George, and there was passion, and there was Arashi, and there was jealousy, and there was Tokumori, and there was love.

Now George has gone to Paris and Tokumori has gone to University. Arashi has gone on tour with his band and Miwako has gone with him. Isabella has gone to god-knows-where and I'm here all alone. I'll never understand what it was about this tiny basement that drew me in but it draws me here still. George forgive me, but the atelier is, and always will be, my home. I come here every chance I get. I'll fly back early from Milan, I'll turn down a job in Moscow, I'll swim back from New York if I have to, but I'll always return to the atelier.

I make myself a pot of tea; silly, fancy, expensive tea, but in my mind it is Isabella who makes it, Arashi who complains, Miwako who chides him and George who compliments Isabella. One of the tea sticks floats upright and I have to wonder what that means.

A knock sounds from the door.

"Who else knows about this place?" I think as I go to open the door.

There stands an angel, pink hair drenched with rain, face stained with tears. I stand open mouthed and before I can say a word—

"CAROLINE!" she screams, launching herself into my arms. I catch her and allow her to pull me close to her, as I remain rigid, stunned.

"Miwako-chan!" I finally say.

She pulls back and wipes her cheeks with her right hand which bears a large, pink plastic ring.

"Gomen, gomen…" she says, continuing to sniffle.

I offer her a seat and a cup of tea which she accepts. Finally I hear the story. It's a very predictable story. Miwako caught Arashi in bed with one of the groupies, and Arashi couldn't talk his way out of this one. Miwako had marched out of his flat and promptly burst into tears, immediately regretting her decision.

"I didn't know where else to go, so I came here," she says, stating the obvious. "My sister is in Europe with her family announcing a new Happy Berry line and…I don't know…somehow this just felt right."

For no reason at all, I reach out and touch Miwako's cheek. She looks startled at first, then closes her eyes. It's obvious what I should do. I pull her onto my lap and just hold her. Gradually her sobbing stops and she looks at me with those big, still-innocent eyes, and the next thing I know we're kissing.

And I don't know…somehow it just feels right.