“I’m removing my wings,” she said to the angel beside her.
“Your wings!” he exclaimed turning to look at her. She was beautiful, like they all were, but her beauty was different. It was bold and untamed, contrasting with the faultless uniformity of everything around them.
“I don’t believe you,” he said shaking his head. “No one would ever leave this life.”
She looked around and knew he was right. Here, everything was beautiful. There were no petty wars that caused pain and death. Nothing new or unexpected arose to disrupt daily life. No need, instinct or ephemeral feeling drove angels together. Here, everything was ideal, in all places and for all time. No, no one else would ever leave.
But she was different, and she looked fondly upon life in the world. There, kingdoms arose through valor and hard work. Unforeseen tests were met by strength and raw hope. Families were formed by love and mutual help. There, human lives sprung up and fell away in tumultuous complexity while her kind remained in their static perfection. She had had that perfection, but now she wanted more.
“I would leave this life,” she said firmly looking back at the angel. “And I plan to do so tonight.”
He shook his head again and said gravely, “You cannot return.”
“I know,” she responded, and took his hand to place it for a moment in both of her own. I know I will not return, she thought to herself as she turned to walk away.
She arrived over a certain city and watched the people busily moving through their human lives. Despite all she had experienced in eternal perfection, she would finally truly experience it all in an imperfect mortal life.
With that thought in her mind and a smile on her angelic face, she reached behind her shoulders, tore out her wings, and plunged to the world below.