Manhattan

The moonlight shines like a halo around the building, and you point up at it with the wonder of a child. For a moment I'm captivated by the glow on your face, and then we walk on through memories and over dreams. Our breath mists in the air and you stop. “This is where I get off,” you say. “You go on ahead, I'll catch up,” but I can tell from your face that you're lying and we'll never be on this corner again. I want to think of something intelligent to leave you with but nothing comes to mind so I walk on in silence. I walk on past store after store, and every mannequin has your face. But the further I walk the more faded they become, until they're harmless again. The sun's come out and my feet are tired so I sit on a bench for a rest. “It's for the best, you know,” a mannequin tells me through a crack in her window. “You were walking too fast for her anyways.” I start to make an excuse, to apologize, but then I realize I have nothing to apologize for. “Now you're getting it,” says the mannequin. I give the mannequin an apple and she turns into an eagle. I tell her that was a neat trick and she offers to show me how, and I turn myself into one too. “Come away with me,” I say, and we fly off into the skies.