"The worst part is knowing it's even possible, y'know, doc?" The youth scrunched into the overstuffed chair. "If I went off my meds, even for a day, I could fly again. I feel it, even if I don't believe it. That's what really bothers me."
"And have you had any more... hallucinations?" asked the psychiatrist.
"No," Peter lied, glaring at the fluttering fairy over the doctor's shoulder.
"Good. Well, we'll see you next week, okay?" He began shuffling papers – the traditional end to their sessions. Peter wasn't watching. He was staring at the window.
"I don't believe that," he whispered.
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