Waking to Fly

I felt wrecked.

I lay in bed, the covers strewn around my body. I was cold but unbearably hot. My mouth was dry, my eyes ressistant against opening them. I ached and I was tired. I didn't want to move but I had a need to fly.

I could barely rememeber anything. I had some vague memories of my door bending under the force of someone. I could barely remember someone yelling at me to get out. But I remained in my closed world.

The door was locked and the window thrown open. Cool breezes played on the back of my neck. I groaned. I sat up. My eyes finally opened. Then squinted in the light. It was a cloudless day, the sky a bright blue. Trees swayed, and birds flew between their branches. I watched them.

They were so simple in their existance. I couldn't help but admire and envy their ablility to fly away from all their troubles. I sat entranced for a while before pulling the covers off me and getting out of bed.

I stretched and crouched down. My muscles were relieved to move, but they were still sore. I got up and went to the window.

The wind blew in face, and I only thought for a moment before hurling myself out the window.