The paper had muscle as if leather were a form of election. We had places to go and issues to undermine. She thought he would leave her when he professed love while drunk. Begging him was just another form of denying the fact her love for him was constant, steady and true. The walls of her consciousness were bound by wonderment, yet her hair curled at the ludicrous nature of their behavior.
Words speak through the lips as if flesh had anything at all to do with meaning.
The flight was long and hard, like wings beating above her mind, the warm response of the crowd an affirmation of longing. The why's and where's never came to her as easily as the if's and maybe's. Paper never stretches out as gently as a dove, although it is often asked to carry the same message. Miracles happen even when unexpected. She needed the taste of certainty even if she couldn't swallow the story that went along with it.