[ IP ] Angel Knight

*One more day. Just one more day* 
 
 I ca n't remember life before The Fitting. I was, I think, a builder. A bricklayer? It seems for far back. It *is* so far back. Two hundred and forty nine years, three hundred and sixty four days ago. *Two days more. * 
 
 The Fitting. Ah yes. The Fitting. The day the armor was forced upon me by a rotten toothed old hag. If the armor fits, she said, I would be the next. I did not want to be next. I wanted to go home to my wife, I wanted to kiss my children goodnight, I wanted to pour a pint of ale and fall asleep in the cool November air. 
 
 I had no choice. All were called to The Fitting. All were made to try on the armor. I was the last. I was the only fit. It *had* to be me. 
 
 So it was. 
 
 I suffered for the cause. For nearly two hundred and fifty years I suffered. I felt no joy in defending man, though I was one. I felt nothing but the weight of self-despair. The armor pressed heavy on me. I could not be free. But now - now at last - the weight will be lifted. 
 
 Tomorrow there will be a new Fitting. T It is so near. Still I feel it on me, pressing on my shoulders, tight against my chest. Will I still feel it when another wears the armor? Will the weight ever be gone? 
 
 Tomorrow is The Fitting.
