Book-ended by two hand-carved wooden seraphs in frozen ascent on a dusty bookshelf in a corner of his mind he kept his manual on how to walk which he had been writing since childhood. On special occasions he would retire the wooden seraphs to their chest drawer and dismantle the bookshelf to take a look inside the manual to refresh his memory for snowy days or because of a girl. When he forgot to replace the seraphs the manual would topple over and the pages would fold and crease and the words would become smudged and obscure and he would have to scramble for his carving knife.
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