Thoughts of Flight“…Oh my – God – Rory!”
Amy could barely make out Mels giggling back in her room as she tore down the stairs, taking them three at a time and ignoring the painful shock that radiated in her ankles when she made it to the ground (taking a leap of five steps). Rory had just made it out the door and was putting his long legs to good use, sprinting in his awkwardly stiff yet somehow graceful way, with stutters at all his joints that made the operation of his limbs magical.
She remembered back to when they were kids and playing games, racing one another, taking dives to avoid being tagged, becoming entangled in a pile of limbs when the end of the day came. Laughter, lots of laughter, especially at the expense of poor Rory, what with his shaggy, girlish hair and timid nature. If he was ever offended, he never said anything – which wasn’t the case for Amy or Mels, who would immediately go on the defensive. No, pleasant-minded Rory was always eas