Angelica’s had enough of this place.
Everyone is too nice, nothing but sweetness and light. Really, an occasional puzzled frown or heartfelt tear wouldn’t go amiss. And the music – please! All that la-la-la-ing is getting old fast, not to mention the blasted harp night and day. Oh for a bit of birdsong, or better yet, sweet silence!
She’s so not into the food. Milk and honey, blech. How about a tall stack of blueberry pancakes? Most of all, she misses the feel of fresh earth beneath her feet. Whose fool idea was it to pave the streets with gold?