Member-only story
A Little Thing Called Hope
How could I ever know what she would do?
Apr 6, 2024
Hope is not an angel. Hope is not a savior.
Hope is just my girlfriend who happens to have wings.
I don’t know how she got the wings. She never told me. I wonder if she even knows the truth herself.
But at night, when we lie in bed beside each other, I trace the feathers with my fingertips. They are soft, so soft, to the touch.
When she sleeps, the wings fold themselves against her back.
When I hold her, I try to keep enough distance between us that I don’t crush her wings.
And in dreams we fly.
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