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, wishing I’d been blessed with a pair of tiny cherub wings like Cheryl from accounting— boy, did she have it lucky. I remember distinctly all the jealous glares she got when she shuffled into the office on her first day. I also glared— I can’t lie. Having such tiny, easily manoeuvrable wings like that tends to spring out the jealousy in people.
The distinct noise of a stack of papers falling somewhere outside my booth doesn’t even make me flinch, that’s the second time today it’s happened. I could tell you without even peeking over my walls that someone has accidentally stretched their wings and knocked the stack off a table— it tends to happen.
Complaints aside, I suppose being able to leap from the office balcony— twenty stories up, by the way— being able to fly over traffic and be home in five minutes isn’t really that bad… I’d love to see Cheryl attempt THAT with the pitiful little twigs on her back. Yes, the transportation aspect is pretty neat after all. A lot of people do it nowadays, we actually managed to lower the carbon footprint just because flying is so much easier.
So there is the good and the bad, I suppose..
