This story, "Sequins," was originally published in Tumbarumba: a frolic of intrusions -- it was a little tricky to read, since it was this Firefox extension / art project thing. Now it's available to you in fabulous plain text. :-) Thanks to Ben Rosenbaum and Ethan Hawke for publishing it, and for letting me reprint it.
Story continues here.
"Sara?" Her husband stuck his head around the door of her studio. "Can you pick up Gaya from dance class this afternoon?"
"What?" Sarala blinked twice from behind her glasses, jarred from the image she'd held in her mind, the image that stubbornly refused to come out into the paint on her canvas. There was a body, she knew -- a body, and wings -- but more than that. Not as trite as a woman turning into a bird, seeking flight, freedom, escape. Along with the wings were powerful haunches, poised to leap, muscles tense and yearning. And claws, sharp and long; teeth, red at the tips. All caught at the moment of shifting, transformation, in that liminal space where every possibility hangs, glorious, waiting.