Hummingbird Salamander

by Jeff Vandermeer

I did and didn’t enjoy air travel back then. The quiet, cool cocoon, the ice in the glass just so, the smooth camaraderie of seasoned travelers broken only on occasion by the person to whom it was all too new. The freedom to be alone, to think alone. The spotlight from above that pearled the scented air. Pointing at only the important things. The sense of being motionless once at altitude. Outside of time, outside of history.

Another delay. Well, that was the way of it with miracles like flight. The magic had become tawdry, tattered, excruciating.