Artist: Eliza Ivanova
“Instinctively touching her back, she felt coarse feathers bristling
through her skin, like acupuncture needles she was once
compelled to touch. That had been weird, but nothing compared
to this. She pulled on one nascent shaft and felt her skin peel
towards it. It was stuck, but she got the feeling that if she pulled
a little harder, it would pop, and come out in her fingers.
In the mirror, she shrugged her shoulder blades and feathers, black
– highlighting the opalescence of her pink skin – blossomed like a
blast of sudden spring. They grew, forming wings, knocking toiletries
from shelves and slamming like a fist against the window pane.
The window. The sudden urge to open it was overwhelming.”