Wings
I arrived at the library a solid 10 minutes late, making sure to admire my appearance in the reflection of the doors before I even entered. Fashion is my top priority, so I do arrive fashionably late from time to time. I make sure to retract my navy-blue wings before sneaking over to the outermost corner of the library, not even bothering to find my mentor, Francine. My favorite corner consists of a table for one and a maze of books surrounding it on each side. No one would be able to see my plans this way. I had researched just about every book and website on the history of wings. I know where they came from, I know every shade they could come in, but I didn’t know how they could give me a new destiny. Based on the navy-blue hue I wear on my back, I’m stuck with a future in either a library or classroom, and refuse to accept this fate. I want so desperately to design my own clothes and study under elite fashion experts, not doing various research projects for a grumpy old librarian. From my seat, I hear the frustrated sounds of Francine telling a man he had to leave the library. I didn’t want to snoop, but who can resist a little drama every now and then? I was able to witness everything by peeking in between the spaces of the books on one of the shelves.
