Sample: Fiction, third person

When she met the saint she fell weeping at his feet.

Lesser Saint Peter, a man far too familiar to the original, was the one who caused the changes in her. His lips moved only to grant prayers, not to offer prayers of his own. And if there were sins on his lips, he did not speak of them or where they went. He would grant all prayers but one, and this is what frustrated her most.

A saint. A goddamn saint was testing her, pushing her, destroying her from the inside out. His was the purest, most potent love she had tasted; that knowledge, that feeling made her weep uncessantly, all the more so because the saint would not move to grant her prayer. Compounding that injury was the knowledge that she could not move to tempt a saint, and if she did, it would be her fault for corrupting him.

From the beginning, Mia remained in her cat form whenever he was around. She would sit in his lap, a sleek Siamese, or trot after him, a small black cat. When she was not human, it was easier to ignore the bands of pressure in her chest. He did not adore her as she did him - he merely loved her, as he loved all other living creatures. She ached for him, for contact with him. Being apart became agony, she lived for his gentle hand on her head. Lesser Saint Peter offered her the Garden of Eden, and she was content to stay far from the fruit.

Deep inside, she recognized that she could not stay beside him forever, and that tore at her more than her unrequited love. Lesser Saint Peter would be only a prayer's breath away whenever she needed him, but because he would not fulfil the one thing she needed most of him, she knew that she would have to go elsewhere. Being in his presence hurt because of this knowledge, but what pained her even more was the knowledge that she would have to go elsewhere.

She chose to walk away slowly, as a human. He did not call out to stop her.