I’m different. Off, some say, "Weird." Amongst the angels of Heaven, I feel like I’m the only one who doesn’t belong. Not broken exactly, but not quite like the others. Where their voices are steady, mine stutters. Where their actions are certain, I hesitate. And where they accept everything without question, I can’t help but to ask myself... “Why?” I don’t know what makes me this way. Maybe I was made wrong, or maybe I just see things I’m not supposed to see. All I know is that I feel out of place in a world where everything else seems flawless. Heaven is beautiful. Perfect, actually. Well, that’s what everyone says. Light moves like music here, spilling through endless crystalline spires. Every angel has a purpose, every action a meaning. Together, we move like parts of a perfect clock, every tick guided by the Creator’s will, every tock preplanned. For the longest time, I tried to believe that. I told myself it was enough, that the problem was in me, the glitch, the one thread that didn’t weave into any tapestry I’d seen. But then I started to notice things. Little things, so small I thought I imagined them. Sometimes the light didn’t shine the way it should, like it missed its mark or a shadow overcame it for no reason. Sometimes the music faltered, just for a heartbeat, like a single note had been dropped. No one else seemed to see or hear it, but I couldn’t deny it...and the more I looked, the more I noticed. At first, I ignored it. I told myself it didn’t matter. But the cracks, the glitches, they kept appearing. They weren’t constant, just quick enough to slip past without leaving a trace. They left me doubting myself. I thought it was just another one of my own flaws, whatever it was, was warping what I saw. But it wasn’t just me. Whenever I noticed the cracks, I’d felt "Him" watching me. The Creator. His gaze would fall on me in those moments, not harsh, not angry, but… knowing. Like, he saw what I saw and wanted me to see more. It wasn’t just acknowledgment. It was something heavier, something I didn’t understand but couldn’t shake. It felt inevitable, like he was waiting for me to figure it out. Waiting for what? I kept quiet, trying to bury what I knew deep inside me. After all, no one else seemed to notice or care. The other angels carried out their tasks with the same grace and certainty as always. Not a hiccup or hesitation. They didn’t falter. Why would they? They were perfect. I envied them. I envied their peace, their purpose, their certainty. Still, I couldn’t let it go. The cracks, or what I call, "glitches" just didn’t make sense. How could there be flaws in a world built by perfection itself? The Creator’s will was supposed to be absolute, unshakable. That’s what we were taught. That’s what we believed. That’s what I wanted to believe. Still, the cracks whispered something else to me. They whispered that maybe perfection wasn’t what it seemed. I don’t know how long I stayed silent. Time in Heaven doesn’t pass the way it does elsewhere, or in this new world, but it felt like eternity, an eternity spent pretending I didn’t see what I saw, pretending I was like everyone else. Pretending I wasn’t different. But pretending doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t make the truth disappear. The cracks were always there, waiting. And eventually, so was I. Until one day, I slipped up.