The box. The door. The crumbling brick. It begged me to enter.
It beckoned to me.
It yanked at my heartstrings and in that moment I knew what I had to do.
I stepped over the discarded box.
I threw open the door.
The bricks we the last thing I saw before I flew down the long corridor.
My wings were beautiful and swift.
The stairs bowed to my will. The passageway granted me permission to cross.
I noticed nothing. Too busy in my flight was I.
Then there he was. Tall and dark. A fresh lit cigarette hung from his lips.
My wings disappeared. I stopped. My breath caught in my throat.
Our eyes met.
His head bowed.
He understood.
The space between was closed. His hands found mine. My heart found his.
His fiery wings engulfed me.
My frozen wings reached to his.
The city shrank beneath our feet.
We were free at last.
The sirens blared. Pistols where cocked. Aims were made. Bullets were fired.
We were free.
They were slaves. Drones controlled by an invisible hand.
Blood poured. Our ascent arced down.
The fire was put out. The ice reigned free.
Nets were thrown.
Ice became snow, falling to the Earth.
Shackless were placed. Cages explored.
Pain.
Blackness.
The box. The door. The crumbling brick. It begged me to enter.
