I found a pair of wings lying in an alleyway. They were broken and dirty, but they fit me just right. I supposed my guardian must have committed suicide like I always wanted to, by jumping off a ledge and refusing to fly.

I wore those wings until they grew into my back. I had to be your guardian angel now.

But when I found out I could fly, too, I decided to test my luck and go to the place where the sun sleeps and the moon sneaks out from at night. The horizon, an infinite peripheral. I'll never come back, you know.

I just want to keep flying.