My parents and I move house. The house is small and covered in greenery. The house is claustrophobic, even though it is always flooded with sunlight.
If I run fast enough I can fly, for a few metres. This is a new discovery. I push myself, run until the air is cold and biting at the top of my lungs and then I am weightless. You’d think people would find this cool, but they don’t - it kind of weirds them out. So I only fly when no-one is looking. I worry that if I fly too close to the sea I will drift out and off the edge of sight. The panic causes me to stumble.
I run past a school. The kids, there must be like sixty or more, are putting their arms through the fence reaching out for high-fives. High fives all down the line. It’s like being popular in an American high-school movie. But I can’t feel them, or I can’t bear to not feel them so I just keep running. Smiling and looking forward until the line disappears.
I turn the corner and two guys pass me by. I wonder if they know I can fly and I’m sick.