After years of obsessive scrapbooking, having surrounded herself with inspirational quotes, she realized that her soul did indeed have wings.

They were small and dark, with dusty hair-like feathers, and appeared to belong to some large flightless bird, like an emu or an ostrich.

It took her some time to accept that with such wings, her soul would never soar–but the fact that she could kick a man’s lungs out through his spine was ultimately some small consolation.

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