After sanitizing her mouth Janice bit the wings off of a merely stunned fly and with tape and mirrors she carefully taped them to her shoulder blades, one each, as prescribed by common sense.
Thereafter, the fly lived a life of unbridgeable paradox and also pain.
Try as she might, Janice couldn't raise even a speck of dust with her new wings. She sat in bitter silence. Her eyes fell deeper into their sockets, further darkening her brow.
Placing herself in front of a mirror, she said, "What is a woman without her beauty? I've sacrificed everything. And for what?'
Suddenly, recalling a moral obligation, she returned to the fly and, with her toe, crushed it.
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