each time i got where i was going and opened the car door, they’d flap out, desperate, like they had been flying into cellophane windows the entire drive, then springing backward into my lap, over and over. seeing the brilliant sky but it’s a little hazy, like pavement on a hot day, or opening your eyes in the morning before you've reached for your glasses -- only slight astigmatism.
when i’d finally open the door, they’d fly straight up until i couldn't see them anymore. i could not jump high enough to make the colors stay.
Danielle Adamowitz is a student at Rutgers University studying to be an English teacher. She is also currently an editor and contributing writer at Flurt Magazine. Danielle can be found at danielleeleanor.wordpress.com.