Status Updates From Between Sea and Sky

“Michael began to find her in his sights at different times of day: from his chair in front of the trailer when she came back from work or when she stepped out of the shower, still dripping. She wished, then, for her knife; she wished for a way to cut herself loose.”

“The last season you wrote, a spring, a rainy one for me, some years after my last migration, each of your letters contained only an image of a nest or an egg or a bird. The last featured a bird tumbling from a nest, one wing outstretched.

I didn’t know how to reply.

I’m sorry.”