Camilla Hates to Fly, 5 x 7, acrylic, Elizabeth W. Seaver
"I won't spend another winter, freezing my tailfeathers off in that strange excuse for a lake in Central Park shopping hell," Camilla muttered to herself as she leaned into the October wind. "Just because I'm afraid of heights...I don't have to miss out on winter in Mexico."
Her breath came in short gasps, and her legs, previously only used to scuttle across Central Park Blvd. to worry the patio diners at Chipotle as she scarfed the chips they dropped, ached with a burning sort of throb.
"What is it with Amtrak that they won't sell a ticket to me, a respectable goose? Next spring, I'm getting into it with Julie!"
Her breath came in short gasps, and her legs, previously only used to scuttle across Central Park Blvd. to worry the patio diners at Chipotle as she scarfed the chips they dropped, ached with a burning sort of throb.
"What is it with Amtrak that they won't sell a ticket to me, a respectable goose? Next spring, I'm getting into it with Julie!"
