I pierce into the night sky, breaking though the thick clouds.

Finally. Freedom. I spread my limbs, the icy air freezing my fingertips, ripping the feathers from my wings.

I was a beautifully made creation, but my wings are not meant for flying through the air.

I take a big breath of the crisp air into my lungs, enjoying the feeling. Feeling. I haven’t enjoyed the sensation in so long. And I need this, I need to take a break. The universe can do without me for a little while. The weight of the worlds get heavy after a few centuries.

A city’s light breaks through the snowfall around me, a haze at first, then an explosion. Colors flash and sparkle in the ice and snow, the entire city a daze of a Christmas tree.

For it being the dead of night, the city’s alive. People and cars move constantly through the maze of streets and alleys. I want to take it inside me, feel the movement and the life.

Chase out the emptiness.

I stiffen my wings, spread them to slow my fall and guide myself toward a less occupied part of the city. Seeing an angel falling from the sky isn’t exactly the way I’d like to start my temporary new life.

My bare feet brush the ground, my frozen toes digging into the deep snow. I wrap my wings around myself, blocking the breeze. At least most humans can’t see my wings.

My muscles freeze, colder than the weather outside. Will any humans see me? Not that it matters. I won’t need food. I don’t need sleep. But for all the beauty that this particular world holds, I’ll be alone.

Which means I might as well go back to where I came from.

Maybe I should move on to another world. Or perhaps I never should have stopped moving at all. As long as I’m focused on where I’m going, I can’t see where I am. There’s no need for worry. To notice the vast hole inside myself. My arms twist around middle, as if they’re any help to keep me from falling apart.

Something loud slams behind me. I jump, slipping on the ice and falling, the breath slapping out of me as hit the ground.

The world swirls around me. The sound of crunching snow gets closer and closer until the landscape suddenly stops swimming and there’s a man hovering over me, hand extended.

Without thinking, I reach out and take it.

He lifts me up.

He sees me. I don’t have to be alone here. Gratitude floods through me in a wave so warm that I’m surprised doesn’t melt the snow around me. Maybe… maybe I’ve found my place.

I search for words to say, but nothing will do my emotions justice. I look up at his eyes—and notice that they’re wide. With shock.

He gives a nervous smile. “So, um, wings. You’ve got ‘em?”



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