He loomed over, his pressed suit was brown, and she did once lean on him like the arboreal pillar he was. But his buttons gleamed in a less delightful way. What she once saw as pixies that enchanted him with his high position became reflective mirrors on an old skyscraper, the one that should have been torn down. Her hooded eyes settled on the loosest of buttons, the one she wished to fix. When her fingers twitched to reach for it, the vague brushing of leaves that was his voice finally personified. "You have been a very vicarious little girl."
She looked up at him and one could see his sternness was a front. "What imaginings do you create that is better than this?" He opened his arms wide and laughed, gesturing to the room while she thought he meant "the world". Her heart raced.
Were his exposed wings sturdy enough to take them both over oceans and terraces?
Inspiration: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y2CGnFPgXFI&list=FLs66rtq4CBpeq-rSg_KLvJA&index=8
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