Indra Storm

Flight

To my tiny, chubby, syrup-greased hands, it was irresistible. Beads of golden sunlight clung to its varnished exterior like water, always jumping and pooling. At least, that’s how it appeared to me. Pa had quipped that if I’d just settled down, the light would stop moving too. But, being the remarkable two-year-old that I was, at no point that morning did I settle down.