Wednesday

*

"Hand.  Hand.  Hand! Hold my hand."

"I have no idea where we're going."

"You've always wanted to fly."  That twinkling smile, only in the eyes.

I never thought that if one were to fly, it would be quite as uncomfortable as the sensation I am now experiencing.  Your legs just kind of dangle there, helpless to move you.  It doesn't feel like swimming at all, except for the wind is tossing you around like heavy surf on the beach.  I feel crushed and thrashed, and my ears are totally popped.  You would think there wouldn't be a shortage of air because you're floating in it, but really, who wants a glass of water when they're drowning?  I could do with a glass of water about now.  The wind is stinging my eyes, tears streaming down my face.  I reach to swipe them away.

"Hand.  Hand.  Hand! Hold my hand."

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