the easy stillness of an afternoon light

She walks up the stairs slowly, each step creaking softly in the fading daylight.

The house is quiet, and it feels peaceful, and that’s how it would stay in her memory.

Her hand runs past the banister feeling the old wood under the fingers and sensing each crack, sharp edge, or smooth line. Finally, she carefully reaches the third-floor window and opens it, listening to the low creak as she does so. She smiles and slips off the white cotton shirt that gently falls to the ground. She leans over the edge of the window and flexes the muscles, feeling her back start to bleed. She smiles again and inhales.

It’s time.

Deep lines open on her skin and scratch between her shoulder blades, red-stained feathers slipping out and blossoming like small flowers breaking the milk-white flesh as if through melting snow.

Time stops, and then suddenly, everything catches light.

There is nothing more in the soft summer air but an angel’s soft sigh.