The Cage She Built For Us

It was a tiny, carved bird, its wings outstretched as if in mid-flight. I had made it for her. My first gift, a piece of code I' d writ

ured so carefully. She'd said it was the most real thing she had ever owned. Looking at it now, lying between us

t, her expression was unreadable. She bent down and picked it up, her long

ing wood was quiet, but it echoed in the room like a gunshot. She opened her han

lat. "It was always so fragile.

r eyes filled with a

part of my story s

, she scooped up the largest splinter of the bird and forced it betwe

d my jaw shut, forcing me to swallow the sharp, woody fragment. I

ing. She stood up, brushing the dust from her han

t of my lif

n she p

nd sensation. The city lights spun into a dizzying kaleidoscope below. For a horrifying, endless moment

. A jolt, a sense of immens

f antiseptic filled my nostrils. A soft, padded helmet was lifted

at leaned over me, his

Your vitals went critical. We had t

body was whole, but I could still feel the phantom sensation of the fall, the