Just something I wrote on the plane.

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Her newfound home does not want her to go. Whenever it is time to leave it conjures up great rainstorms, fighting in the only way it can. She sits, torn, as they drive. Outside the cool glass of the car pass streetlights and buildings, hazy in the fog as if they are ancient ghosts of a forgotten civilization. She wraps her hands around her head and clamps her beak shut. She does not want to leave behind the hills and the safety and most importantly of all her partner. But even the clouds and their weary drizzle can do nothing. It is too late, her sense of obligation having caged her. Stepping outside she feels the wind caress her, ruffling through her feathers while raindrops patter down upon the pavement. I’ll be back, she reminds herself as much as the faithful storm clouds above. It will just take some time.