She stayed in her little wired cage all of her days, afraid of her own wings. Each morning, each new opportunity, the door would open for infinite empty space spilled from behind the bars. The air of desire made her wings ache with a torturous need for movement, but she fought the temptation with all she had. She felt them on her back and knew of her marvelous gift that the clipped canaries envied with every hollow bone in their bodies. She'd give them her flight, if she could. They who knew they would never fly deserved wings more than the angel in the cage did.