Thousand: Six Hundred Ninety-Two

glances into the canopy the wind keeps tugging at. The sun is so bright it pokes through the material as thousands of tiny stars. An odd-shaped shadow seems to reform itself along a seam and she is not sure she saw anything at all. Nope. Nothing to see there. “If there are man-angels, yes, they must be totally awesome. But maybe they’re man-angels one day and the next something cozier, warmer. Deeper.” “Did the angel? Did the angel take you? Like a man?” The circle is quiet. The girl shakes her head and picks up the cute little cup muddied