Tinna: Angel

“Please,” Leo whispered to the shadows. “I want to go home.”

The other forgotten things—a chipped music box, a one-eyed teddy bear—whispered that Tinna wasn’t a real angel because she couldn’t fly, couldn’t sing, couldn’t save anyone. tinna angel

She wasn’t a real angel, not the kind with feathered wings and heavenly choirs. She was a tiny, wind-up automaton, no taller than a spool of thread, with delicate silver wings hammered from foil and a halo made from a bent paperclip. Her name was etched in faded ink on the inside of her tin chest: Tinna . “Please,” Leo whispered to the shadows

She fell with a tiny clink at Leo’s feet. lived Tinna Angel.

In the high, forgotten rafters of an old clockmaker’s shop, lived Tinna Angel.