My wife opens the kitchen window; sunset fall air and a sparrow rush in with the breeze. I start to close the window thinking of a wicker cage and the sparrow tilting her little head behind the slats; the feathers below her beak, her bright black eye shot through with sparks. Surely the sparrow has seen the little children lining up far beyond our reach, has seen the boys and girls flashing down to Earth faster even than lightning.
But my wife puts her hand on my arm, and the sparrow slips through the window quick as breath.
An old friend told me this morning that someone I knew from high school died recently. She used to sit beside me in creative writing class. She wrote a poem about a goddess, as I recall. She asked a friend of mine to Winter Ball. We were all in on the plot to get her to ask him out. I remember them together at the dance.
Life gives, and it takes away; she was here for much too short a time. Godspeed, Kat. If there is a heaven, surely you are there already.
About Friday Fictioneers – every Friday, writers from all around the world write 100 word (or thereabouts) flash fiction based on a photo posted that Wednesday on Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ blog.
I welcome constructive criticism; without it I cannot grow as a writer. The weekly photo that inspired this story is below: