Lizzy Burnam 🐞

The clouds engulf you and your vision goes white. Here, you are small and foreign and closer to the center of the universe than you’ll ever be again. A cold wind shoots straight through your bellybutton. Feel it breathe into the choked-out parts of you, but try not to swallow it: at these great heights, even a spoonful of reason might make you insane. Look at all that empty space below your feet, between a break that comes too early and a fall you can’t run fast enough to save. A distance longer than your life, yet only as short as the last sparking clip of your fuse. The seatbelt light blinks on; you brace for turbulence. Just sit still, kiddo. We’re almost there. Look, is it a bird? No—a ghost, sustained on spite and solitude, translucent as the triple-glazed glass of a cockpit window pane.