Prologue
The Year My Sneakers Grew Wings
They were just sneakers.
Old, beat-up, fraying at the laces. The kind that squeaked in the
hallway and collected pebbles in the soles. They smelled faintly of
rain and grass and something like dusty cinnamon.
They weren't fast. They weren't cool. They weren't new.
But they were mine.
And one morning-on the kind of day that starts like any other-I
woke up and they had wings.
Not painted on. Not imagined. Wings. Real ones. Feathered and
soft and twitching slightly, like they were dreaming of flying
before I even put them on.
That was the beginning.
Of flight.
Of friends I'd never imagined.
Of storms I had to fly through just to find my own sky.
I didn't know it then, standing barefoot on the floor, staring at
those impossible shoes...
But that was the year everything changed.