A normal day in the boring life of me usually starts in my bed. Alone. Shut up.
I wake up, just like any human that has been sleeping and sit up. Now I would go into to great detail about how my mornings usually start, but I'm sure you came here to hear about The Angel, now hold your horses impatient swine, the time will come, I mean I have to mention it sometime, it is the title of this book after all.
I don't normally eat breakfast, instead I go out for a walk it my "backyard forest" I say that because no one else really goes there, so it counts as part of my property.
But it was on one of those said walks where I met my imminent doom. But more on that later.
After said walk I tend to spend some time working, by working,  I mean writing, I like to write in case you wanted to know, and if you didn't, too bad, sucks for you, I just wasted a few precious seconds of your perfect little life. Oh well.
I have sold a few book under a ghost name, I don't want people coming to my doorstep, nervously asking me to scribble my name down on a piece of paper, I never understood the thrill of knowing a celebrity touched the same piece of paper as you and just so happened to also write their terribly written name on it too.
A simple day ends with me still writing, I don't eat a lot, as you might have already understood. Then I go back upstairs and pass out for the night. Pretty straight forward right? Yeah, I thought so too.