

The Day Wendy Came
No one knew how much I wanted to see her. I kept the thought, along with many others, to myself. I was sick, kept prisoner by iron hands that pressed upon my chest, and to make up for my body’s captivity, my mind gallivanted. It often chose the path of the past, stopping to smell the flowers of childhood, striding hurriedly through the woods of adolescence, and gazing at the skies of my college years, sometimes stormy, sometimes sunny and laden with clouds as white and fluffy