Flight
A shirt, blood-soaked cuffs, crumpled upon the wooden chopping block. Sunshine had never filled him with such sorrow.
Ennis, skidding stones across the dribbling creek.
Jack slipped the shirt into his knapsack. And then he was standing outside a forlorn trailer, a scene in his mind as fresh as the snow that had come and gone on their lonely hillside. Watching a boy who didn't want to be watched. His invisible friend now forever etched into his waking thoughts.
Ennis turned around, smiling.
A lone bird swooped toward the creek, brushed the water and then swirled into the sky.