Wings.
What kind of messed up God had the terrible idea to bestow it upon us, eh?
My back aches as I strain to keep my wings folded behind me but still leaving room to lean back against my chair in my cramped booth.
There’s only so much room you can have with such bulging and straining weights on your back that constantly twitch and jerk like they have a mind of their own.
I groan quietly, wish...
