Ground Running

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The bird wants out.The bird wants out so bad.?Miss??Paia flinches a little and turns her face towards the flight attendant, a lady in her forties with coral-colored lipstick and a little hat pinned to her blonde hair.The lady seems nice. Real nice.Still, Paia doesn?t dare look her in the eyes. She looks at her philtrum, instead.The philtrum is the line connecting the nose and the upper lip.Paia presses her own lips together hard, smushing them between her teeth until they are a tingly, stiff line of bloodless flesh. The corners of her mouth go up automatically, so it looks a little like a smile.She has practiced this in front of her mirror many times. It was considerably easier at home.The bird still wants out.Paia hopes she didn?t say that out loud. Seems unlikely, given that her lips are still smushed very tightly and her teeth are beginning to hurt. But still. This body isn?t always? entirely connected. Anything can happen in it.?Is this your first flight?? the attendant asks with honest sympathy and a strong hint of wariness ? eyes wide open, roaming Paia?s face, searching for signs that cause concern in a very professional sort of manner.Is this her first flight?It is and it isn?t, really. First flight on a plane or any type of flying machine, yes. First flight, no. There?s no way to explain it. Not to her.The flight attendant is clearly concerned by the lack of an answer, but Paia can?t think of anything to say. Can?t bring herself to say it. Speaking to people is so much harder in practice than in theory.?Miss, are you feeling unwell? Do you need anything?? She points to the longish brown paper bag that?s folded into the net in front of Paia?s seat, stuck between some glossy magazines and the ?safety card'. ?The sickness bag is right in front of you, just in case.?Safety. Such a weird word to use. We are hurling through the sky confined inside a heavy metal tube, propelled by burning gas, running against the winds instead of with them, and one little bird could cause us to plummet to the earth like a meteorite.Paia keeps pressing her lips together and focuses on the flight attendant?s neckerchief instead of her philtrum now. She says nothing.There are little penguins on the neckerchief. Flightless birds. Is that supposed to be Ankara bayan escort (http://ankaratavsiye.com/) irony??If you need anything, feel free to press the call button,? the lady eventually says, gesturing to the console over Paia?s head, and adds with a professional smile, ?Please buckle up, we?re about to take off. Thank you!? Then she clicks the overhead bin shut and moves on through the rows towards the back of the plane.Paia observes her as she leaves, slowly letting go of her lips and the grimace.Humans surprise her over and over again with their simple politeness and the honest lukewarmth in their words. No matter how many times Paia leaves her nest and encounters humans, she is taken aback by that distant but firm considerateness with which the people interact. At the supermarket - ?Have a nice day.? At the grocer?s - ?Thank you for your purchase.? At the coffee shop - ?What can I get you today?? On the street - ?Excuse me? Could you point me towards the next train station??. On the train - ?Sorry, is this seat taken? Do you mind???Humans aren?t supposed to be nice. They are supposed to be cruel and cold, killers of all things Other, swift and decisive in their strikes.That?s what the flock keeps saying.Instead, most people take care of strangers, even when the stranger is Paia. At least a little. They say ?please? and ?thank you?, they help when they see you drop something, they inquire about your well-being and point unsarcastically to sickness bags that are right in front of your face, and they don?t go out of their way to laugh at you when something embarrassing happens to you. They don?t lash out first thing, they don?t peck and shun. They are not readily, easily, casually cruel in Paia's experience.They?re so different from the flock.Still, Paia is quietly thankful that the two seats next to her are empty. This plane is almost deserted, or it feels that way because everyone is scattered in the forest of high backrests. The next passengers are two rows behind her and there is one man in the same row at the window over on the other side, but the seats are set up in such a way that she is not in anyone?s easy line of sight and no one is in hers. She can only see the man when she leans forward. By the looks of Escort bayan Ankara (http://ankaratavsiye.com/) it, he?s somehow already asleep, his chin sunken onto his chest, the inflatable pillow shaped like a croissant that?s draped around his neck offering his head zero support.Paia buckles up because the flight attendant lady asked her to.The click of the metal buckle and the metal flap rings out like a round sliding into the chamber of a gun or the ratchet of a handcuff.Immediately, the scratching and fluttering inside get worse. Much worse.My bird wants out.My bird needs out.Out.Out out. Out out out out Out OUT OU-Paia presses her lips together again, this time to keep the shrill noises in, and screws her eyes shut as the plane begins to move. It's slowly rolling backward at first as it pulls out of the gate, jolting her in her seat and rattling the entire inside of the plane.This was a bad idea.Such a bad idea.A lethally terrible idea.Paia is almost certain she said this out loud.The rumbling and jerking jostle the marrow of her bones, the contents of her almost empty stomach, and the roots of the feathers in her neck. The noise of the engines settles between her delicate ears like a constant storm.Out. Out. Out.A terrible idea.She clutches her stomach.Her rib cage tightens and squeezes.Oh, gods and storms.It?s starting.?Are we going to have a problem??Her eyes open at the first deep, rumbling note, and then widen in horror.Every feather and down inside of her skin blusters to attention and her wings scream with the need to burst out. Her claws pierce through the soft beds of her fingernails, white-hot and painful, ready to scratch and rip and scramble for purchase.They are not strong enough to cut through the slick polyester strap of the safety belt, though, and her pointed claws slip off the smooth belt buckle, and the contraption seems to tighten around her waist as she struggles to break free and get away from the ? the feline ? that is suddenly in the seat next to her.Fly fly fly fly FLY FLY FLY!Paia can see it in his eyes.A cat creature. Predator.Hunter and eater of birds like her.If we fly, he will pursue. The voice in her head is human, the small human portion of her being. It is logic, unafraid calculation, Bayan escort Ankara (http://ankaratavsiye.com/) the counterpart to the instinct and constant fear of her avian.If we fly, he will pursue and catch and kill. We have nowhere to go.There is nowhere to fly to but death.Her skin is already curling with the feathers, but they don?t come out. Her bones are at the precipice of metamorphosis, but they hold their form. Her eyesight switches from human to bird to human.Except for her claws, she stays human. For now.Pinned to her seat by the seat belt, bathed in sweat and shivering with adrenaline, scared.Human.The tomcat, also in a human suit, observes her with piercing laziness.?Are we. Going. To have. A problem?? he repeats his question, more slowly, chewing the words as though through a mouth full of fangs.Paia can?t nod or shake her head. She can merely stare and shiver and pant.?Good,? he says as though there had been an answer, and a satisfying one at that, and then reaches out his right hand towards her, but then just lets it hover there in mid-air.It takes her a long second to understand the gesture.A handshake.How? humane. Humans give each other their hands all the time.How condescending. Like a Venus trap offering a high five to a fly.The bird wants to scratch him because she doesn?t have a beak with which she could hack him to pieces. Her hand, her claw, lashes out, wanting to cut his palm into ribbons.The feline is faster.He grabs her hand, claws and all, and enfolds it in a grip that is crushing and irresistible. Inescapable.?No!? she gasps soundlessly. ?No, no, no!?We are caught. Caught-aught-ought! Out! Out-out-out!The bird thrashes and trills sharply in panic as Paia tugs on her captured limb. Her bones and joints crackle in his clutch. Her elbow thumps heavily into the backrest of the seat.?Behave, little bird,? the tomcat warns. His pupils elongate upwards and downwards and the irises around them flash with reflection.He doesn?t let go.The bird still wants out.Paia feels legitimately ill now. Her ribs squeeze her stomach and her lungs. Her sight zips to the airsickness bag the flight attendant had pointed out.?You can hurl if you need to. Feel free.? Maybe he saw her look toward the paper bag, or maybe he just noticed her blood leaving her face and tingeing it green, or the line of sweat on her upper lip. On her philtrum. ?But you will not fly in here.?He leans back in the seat next to hers, filling out the space in more than the physical sense, and doesn?t elaborate exactly what will happen if she does fly in here, what he will do should she even try.