Silent Skies


“This is wonderful.” She says.

“What is?”

“The silence.” Her body circles mine, naked toes flicking at the long grass.

“I suppose so.”

“You suppose? Well I think it is.” She stops, puts a hand to her brow and searches for contrails. “No planes, no clouds; blue skies. Days like this should last forever.”

Her body droops.

The sun pricks at my body.

She rises and spins, throwing up a patterned parachute about her waist. I almost-.

I feel: enraptured, captivated.

Again she pauses. Her face becomes eclipsed, her expression masked.

“I feel light,” she says. Her body floats above me and she becomes a bird – outstretched fingertips made of feathers. Hollow bones.

She continues: “My feet aren’t fully grounded and it’s like: at any moment if I run fast enough, and leap, I’ll fly.”

“You’ll be the only person in the sky.” I tell her.

“Yes, I will.”

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