“Tears pricked at my eyes. “You were still a child when your parents died. Besides, I think that’s what gives you those dark edges. Your wings have beat against the darkest side of life.”
He shook his head. “I don’t have wings.”
I rubbed between his shoulder blades. “I think maybe you do. Maybe they were broken somewhere along the way or maybe you just forgot how to use them…”
A smile teased at the corner of his lips. “I’m no angel.”
“You’re my angel,” I insisted.”
―
K.S. Ruff,
Broken Wings