Julian did not last long in flight, a dizzying black spot that swirled around a sparkling chandelier and elaborately painted wallpaper. He is disadvantaged by his form as ravens or pigeon or whichever petite avian creature he was. Perhaps if he had been turned into an eagle or falcon, he would have last longer when circling around the ceiling of my sitting room. However, I think that the pathetic little bird form he is now fits him and his character best.
After he settle back down on the clawfoot table before me, close but out of reach, I speak again out loud.
"What do you think your mother is up to, now that you're gone?" I ask conversationally.
Naturally Julian can't answer, but that doesn't stop me from running my mouth.
"Do you think she would weep with worry? Do you think she'll lie awake at night, unable to sleep at the thought of not knowing your whereabouts?" The sarcasm is thick in my voice.
