As he went winging up the stairs, Alex passed a room filled with chairs and sober looking people. A girl with hair the color of wet sand caught his eye and cried, “How mad do you think I am?”
Alex thought about this as he climbed the tower. There was a blind woman sitting vigil in the cupola. “If a girl comes after me,” he told her, “you might tell her 60%.” And he tumbled out the window and circled the window, misty morning air like wine in his mouth.
When he came back around the girl was standing on the window sill. “Let the same devil bear us up!” She leaped out and his hands closed reflexively on her shirt and they were falling toward the ground. He dropped her and righted himself and swore. Like a needle he fell after her. Snap of wings and drop; snap and drop.
“What were you thinking?” he crabbed. “No devil holds me up. Just the air currents.”