gmhill2
The wings flexed and bent slightly in the wind. The shuttle dipped slightly but stayed in the air.
Alex pulled back on the stick and left the atmosphere.
I was unsure whether or not to trust her. I looked down at the growing fire and took her hand.
She led me down a long hall and out into the open air.
"It's a miracle."
I looked across the table at the old man. He was tired, obviously broken. I reached out and grabbed his hand.
"No. It was you. You did this."
He almost smiled.
"You should be proud."
The word is thrown around a lot. "My dog survived surgery," "My Dad made it home from Iraq," "That guy I hate died."
It may be a miracle that he died, but the rest is us. The people.