Jacob Frankie

“No,” the bird said. “Please! Don’t lock me up. I would prefer you just kill me now.”
― Charlie Jane Anders, All the Birds in the Sky

“Their house had been a spice shop a hundred years ago, and it still smelled of cinnamon and turmeric and saffron and garlic and a little sweat. The perfect hardwood floors had been walked on by visitors from India and China and everywhere, bringing everything spicy in the world. If Patricia closed her eyes and breathed deeply, she could imagine the people unloading wooden foil-lined crates stamped with names of cities like Marrakesh and Bombay.”
― Charlie Jane Anders, All the Birds in the Sky

“I found a wounded bird,” Patricia said. “It can’t fly, its wing is ruined.”
― Charlie Jane Anders, All the Birds in the Sky

“What?” Patricia looked at her knees, through the thready holes in her denim overalls, and thought her kneecaps looked like weird eggs. “What?” She looked over at the sparrow in the bucket, who was in turn studying her with one eye, as if trying to decide whether to trust her.”
― Charlie Jane Anders, All the Birds in the Sky