Wind In The Hair

People like us weren’t made to stay on the ground. When OJ was followed down the highway, slowly, it was like the last steps of a dead man walking. I did not envy him, landlocked, stuck to the earth. We were born to fly. Like birds. Like falcons. I wanted to believe you were in that balloon so badly. I wanted to believe you had a plan, knew something I didn’t know, how to fly, how to escape. I wanted to be a Balloon Boy with you, surfing on top of flying saucers, a mile high, wind in the hair.

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Title by: Anonymous
Story by: Nick

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