String held tightly in hand forging a link in the furnace of paranoia. Year after year she stayed in that room of doom & gloom never moving not more than a pace or two. She prayed one day the girl would let go so she could float up to the sun.
“There Are Those who bear eyes which are not of this world— eyes which see your wings…. then there are those who do not possess such eyes, but rather, a skin— a skin which is made agitated by the wind of your large, beating wings.