Bought wings today. Bill found me in Aisle 9 contemplating a petite pair. "How do these look?" "Wimpy." Buying wings on sale seemed wrong, anyway. I checked the next size. Not quite right. Then ... massive wings. Bill helped me try them on. I said, "They're vacuum sealed." He ripped open the package. "Not anymore." In the mirror, the wings rose over my shoulders. Perfect. "When we get home," Bill said, "you should run up and down the driveway and shake loose the loose feathers." I did, down falling around me like snow. Bill laughed and laughed.
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