The wings were waiting for her when she got home from work. She was on her seventh pair, whose internal compass broke each time she strayed. She was not suited for this business, neglecting her duties for a past love. How she missed him! Her current charge was a forty-nine-year-old anesthesiologist. The anesthesiologist liked to imagine what her patients were dreaming during their artificial slumber. Did they dance to Motown on a grassy knoll? Make love in a flying saucer? Sing for an audience of hippopotami? The anesthesiologist dreamed of putting herself to sleep for a dream of being awake. The angel dreamed of somersaulting over the Golden Gate for a dream of being loved. She slipped on her new wings. So light! They were a dream come true. They could take her around the world in a flash. They could take her anywhere she wanted to go.