Paper Wings

I looked at my desk.

I was surrounded by all my beloved things.

My computer sat in the far corner of the desk, it’s little green light flickering on and off.

I had fallen asleep on the first draft of my story.

I looked down at it, and ran my eyes over the first few words. They were achingly familiar.

I cast my gaze around the room, drinking in every single detail of the libraries and the chairs and my bed.

It was all home.

My dream had left me exhilarated, refreshed and inspired. The last one was the most important.

It wasn’t even sunup outside.

Only four in the morning.

The light was gray as it filtered through my window, gently illuminating the little couch beneath the window.

I straightened out my papers, and then moved my chair towards the computer.

I drew the laptop closer towards me, feeling its fans breathe warm air onto my icy palms.

I didn’t need any dream wings.

They felt good to have. Of course it felt good.

I looked around once more.

I have everything I need to fly.

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