Wings

A mouthful of feathers first thing in the morning was awkward. A half-naked angel perched on the bedpost was even more awkward. The problem with giving up one’s own wings was the rest of the crew still possessing wings thought they could drop in on mortality with impunity. They had no respect for personal space, sleep, food, or wearing clothing. But they were welcome comfort when his mortal family passed, and it turned out not having wings didn’t mean he could die after all. A handful of feathers as nightfall descended was a little bit of heaven on earth. (100 words)