SongOfTheBirds
She flew over the track, her short hair flying every which way. Her footsteps jarred her to her very core. Behind her was her brother, laughing softly.
"I beat you!" She cried.
She was freezing, but she wasn't shivering. Her fingertips were blue from the cold. She burrowed deep into her too-small jacket, desperate to find some ounce of protection from the below-zero temperatures. There was none.
There is no vacancy here. No room for anything else. My mind is occupied with too many things for anything else to squeeze in, but it does. I'm at maximum, beyond the most I can ever think, but it keeps coming. Sometimes I just want to scream it all away, but I can't.
She was a silent figure on the corner. Her hands constantly twitched at her sides, bringing in light and then releasing it. It was fascinating to watch. Each time he turned to look it was a different color dancing in her palm. Sometimes it would be almost impossible to see, but other times, it was as clear as day.