“They’re so beautiful!”
“The birds! Little black spots blinking in the sunset, all red and orange and blazing. It must be amazing up there, the wind in your feathers, the sun ahead, a world below you like a living map. That would be wonderful, don’t you think?”
I blink, lick my dry, cracked lips. Darkness, that familiar shroud, pulls me close. Her voice, an excited, romantic lilt, melds with the distant honking until I struggle to distinguish them. It feels like she’s distant too, and I’m alone again. It’s just a bunch of squawking to me. Nothing but squawking.