Wings

The unfathomable sunrise rushed through her spread wings, all reds and blues, all intangible bruises. She arched her back, toes digging into the brown tile of the housetops, raising her arms to the sinking sun, then she was airborne, falling, lifting. Grass, concrete, trees pulling back and away. Her breath caught in her chest, or else she would have whooped. And where was the dignity in that? If they only knew what little dignity she had left.

The night had been long and lonely, painful and terror, weeping and ash.
She had nothing left.
She had this left.
She had the solar system approaching.
She had the space dust in her hair.
She had the breath leaving her lungs.
Now she didn’t even have that.
But she had this.
This sweet escape.

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