A scratching at the gate made her look up. It was a little grey bird the size of her hand, its wrinkled feet grasping for a landing and holding tight....It looked at her, cocked its head to the side and back again, then looked up. Searching the pink and orange hues of the sky, it chirped in short bursts before flying away again. Its wings batted against invisible resistance, lifted it higher and faster until was a black dot against the burning sky. She wished she were the bird. That the soaring. “I’m not trying to stop, Bobby,” she breathed. “I just had to let go of you so I could do this.”She knelt and, rather roughly, I thought, jerked my boxers down to my knees. My penis, possibly harder than it had ever been in my whole life, got caught, pulled down painfully, and then popped gleefully out, to slap audibly upwards against my abdomen. When it stopped bobbing it was pointing almost straight up, as if it was staring at both of our faces.Except her face wasn’t up there anymore. It was. More

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