“Do we need happiness to live?” she asked.

He shrugged, his green shirt streching across his back. His shoulder blades poked through the fabric, and she almost reached out to feel his invisible wings. He was an angel – a fallen one perhaps, but he could still catch her whenever she took that last step. “Is living in misery really living?”

“What is living?”

“I don’t know . . . .”

“I think I do.”

“Really? What is it?”

She shrugged, stretching her own feathery wings. “It’s a secret.”