By Timothy Lantz

Allison looked at her watch. The time was 4:17pm.

“Fuck.” She stated with little enthusiasm. “Will this day never end?”

“No,” replied the voice from inside her head. “This day will simply meld into the next, and the next beyond that, each carefully reproducing the exact same level of monotony as the previous 24 hours. Face it kid, you’re fucked.”

“Well at least I know that. I mean… if I didn’t know that, then I might mistakenly have hope. How useless would that be?”

“Now you are beginning to see.”

“So there’s no escape then?”

“Well, maybe. There is one way, but it’s not easy.”

“What the hell does that mean? You know I hate cryptic bullshit.”

“You must overcome your fear.”

“You mean fly, don’t you?”

The voice was silent.

Allison looked at her wings. They were strapped to her back, the leather bindings preventing them from unfurling.

“Damn.”