(short story)

The doors of the hangar are being opened. I’m heading for the runway. Pick up speed. Rising. Flying…flying!

. . .

PSH…PSH…emergency landing. Repair. Takeoff. Flight!

I can fly hundreds of thousands of kilometers. A bobbin with a thread is unlimited. It’ll spin. Let`s go.

But as soon as I get confused, as soon as I start to give up, I doubt everything and everyone…the thread will pull an alarm bell. It’ll call. I’m going after it.”

I jump off the train onto the platform, dusty from the smoke of the factories, get into the car and rush along the gray road between the Golden Fields. I came to my Home.

I pulled over on the outskirts, got out into the steppe and just ran, ran, ran…raising a pillar of dark dust. Stalks tickled my ankles, scratching my calves and spurring my soul. The wind ruffled my flowing hair…

The soles pass the streets; the eyes see aged, but familiar faces. A smile and a tear slide down my face. Memory lane. Nostalgia.

It’s different now. Here. There. Outside. Inside. In my soul. In my heart..

It won’t be the same again.

I remember the past, how it was… it stays that way. It will stay that way. I remember the future, how it will be…

I’m writing a letter to myself. I know, I’ll read it when I get back.” I throw a coin into the fountain and wink uncle Taras Shevchenko, “Well, how about taking off?”

My city. I am not breathing here anymore, only writing down the letter and coming here at a moment of despair like to my Mom at the kitchen. It accepts me. Quietly looks and stretches a dusty plantain, healing my wounds. Carefully hugs and whispers, “Fly…with God!”

. . .

Breathe in, breathe out…Breathe in, breathe out.

Eyes are opened. Looking around at 360 degrees.

I am ready. I run to the car. Taking off!