‘YOU ARE A THIRD AND IN A HOLLOW THERE CAN ONLY BE TWO’
I could tell she was young, confident.
‘I’M ALONE, I’M FAST, I’M STRONG, I’M BEAUTIFUL!’ she called out.
It was a long time since I had heard that. I tried to answer, but my tongue couldn’t remember anything. All I could say was ‘“YEARS YEARS Mister Kitson!”’ It sounded all wrong and I was very distressed. I was sure she wouldn’t come.
But she did. I heard the windrush of her white wings in the peppercorn and there she was, staring down at me. She was … perfect. I was excited for a second, and then I was angry. She held back, saying nothing. Then she inclined to me, but I glared at her and didn’t respond. She inclined again, and I raised my plucked wings at her and hissed. She looked taken aback, and sat still. I had wanted her to visit, but now that I saw her I wanted her gone. She was beautiful. Her wing strokes were strong, and her breast pure white and filled. Her yellow underwings gleamed. I was upset about my bare black skin, my featherlessness. I could see in her shining eyes that I was ugly. I was shaking. I suddenly hated her and Mister Kitson. I wanted to kill her. I made some noises at her that I knew she would never have heard before, and I felt good when she looked uncertain.
