Catching Air

The first time I ever saw Lewis he was catching air. His clothes streamed with wind and his sleeves flapped against his arms like wings too small to fly. There was something intriguing about the way he fell out of that second story window. Even in my panicked rush to pick up his glistening pieces I couldn’t help but admire the shattered jigsaw exploded around my boots. I waded through, lashed him together with my jacket, and brought him home.

“What the hell is this?”

I ignored Marcus until I realized, sweat pouring down brow, I couldn’t heave my patient onto the table.

“Just help me.” I said through gritted teeth, my arms looped under his shoulders.

Marcus shrugged and gripped the boy’s legs and on one two three we swung him onto the tabletop.

“He’s gonna need a lot of magic.” Marcus commented after a moment.

I bit my lip. “I know.”



6 thoughts on “Catching Air

  1. Gorgeous. There’s a poetic flare in your description that reminds me of Markus Zusak. It is a throat-tightening pleasure to read.

    Also – woohoo! We can comment now! And I can give you an official “Welcome to InMon!”


  2. I enjoyed reading the first sentence, picturing some boy running around grabbing at air. 🙂 Each consecutive sentence delighted me because it took what I assumed was going on in the previous sentence and turned that on its head.


  3. It’s funny that both InMon participants who chose “catching air” did a deadly fall, but the two stories are so different! This is gorgeous. I like how you described his fallen body as “glistening”; the word generally has positive connotations and therefore leads right into what follows: “I couldn’t help but admire the shattered jigsaw exploded around my boots.” He seems to me not a patient to be healed so much as a corpse to be resurrected!


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