A tale of A fallen angel

What looked like a light was the shimmer of his blond hair, so white it gleamed even in the scant illumination of the night.

The figure stared out at the sea, hands in his jeans pockets. He looked young, maybe around my age of sixteen. I flew a little closer, but not too close. I wanted to see him, but didn't want to be seen. Although his face was hazy in the dim light, I felt a powerful connection to him. An attraction.

He had green eyes and surprisingly suntanned skin. With such pale hair, I expected that he'd be fair. He adjusted his position, and I could better see his almond-shaped eyes and cleft chin. But the more I studied his face, the more it changed.