Twenty hours later they will find her on the street blood gushing from her eyes and angel wings sprouting from her shoulderblades.
They will try to tug them off but will find they wrap tightly around the bones under her tissue-thin pale dermis and nerves connect them to her delicate scoliotic spine.
The feathers greasy and white like liquid paper will come off in one officer's hand and he will absentmindedly stick one in his pocket to show his asthmatic little girl when she gets home from the orthodontist.
Why Do We Exist?
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Literary Fiction, Noir, Pulp Fiction, Short Stories