the yoke of her aircraft feels solid, whole,
in her hands as the winds rush around her.
her mother's there, beside her on the
ground, eyes turned towards the glistening
horizon as the sun begins to rise. the air is
cold, even underneath her father's old
fleece-lined bomber jacket.
"he'd be proud of you, laika."
she can feel her mother gently touch her
shoulder, urging her forward. the sun breaks
the horizon.
"now, go. take flight."
