I can fly, she stated rather matter-of-factly.
You haven’t any wings, I pointed out. And I was right. I had seen her back at least three time already that day, and she didn’t even have small ones.
I don’t need wings to fly, she sniffed.
Fine, I said, get to it. I want to see it.
She squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath until her face turned red. I watched closely but her feet did not leave the ground.
I think you need to work on your technique, I said kindly.
This is what comes from eating leftover chili for breakfast, she sighed with a frown.
I wasn’t sure if she was talking about herself or me, so I just nodded and agreed.
Sometimes there is safety in ambiguity.