I flip through the sandwich, like it's an old magazine.  And then I put it down, dropping it on my tray. 

   I sigh. 

   Seriously?  It's my last meal.  You'd think they'd care enough about me to add some mayonnaise to the sandwich so I can eat the cardboard they call food, and remember my childhood with. 

   Whatever.

   Tomorrow can't come fast enough.

   Wherever I go, I hope there's mayonnaise.

My eyelashes flutter open, and I turn, pulling the comforters over my head, blocking the pestering sunrays bleeding into my room.  And then it hits me, like a splash of water poured over me.  

Today’s the day!  

The day I can fly!

Rushing out of my bed, I scramble towards my closet and don the quickest outfit to wear, a long skirt and a hoodie, and rush out of my apartment.  Reaching the bottom steps, I pause, and ponder. 

I don’t know how to fly.

Not wanting to waste any more time, I leap from the fourth step into the air, and flap my wings.  Sorry, arms.  And then crash into the concrete.  Groaning, and rubbing my head, I look up and see I landed on the walkway… where passersby are staring at me.  Some pause, coming towards me asking if I’m okay.

I laugh.  “Just tripped, haha.”  Brushing myself off, I get up, and rush to the nearest park.  Grateful that there aren’t many kids, I climb the stairs to the top of the slide.  And I flap my arms.

And flap.  

Nothing happens.  

I flap again, but this time, I run down the slide, and at the bottom jump off, flapping my arms.  

And I flew.

A whole five feet before I ate mulch. 

But I did it!  I flew!  

Success fueling me, I rushed back to the top of the slide, and practiced, and practiced, until I was finally able to maintain being airborne for a long time.  From the top of the slide, I rush out, and flap my arms, even though I don’t need to flap them.  I soar straight up, not caring who sees or who doesn’t.  I soar higher and higher until I’m above the skyscrapers, the air thin, and I fly slowly to let my lungs adjust.  

When ready, I bolt.  Heading for the sea.  

Flying close to the ocean, I let my hand brush against the salty water, letting it spray my face.  Invigorating me.  If only I could fly for the rest of my life.  Oh, well, I better use this time down to the last millisecond to fly.  

I search and search, exhausted for the ones that I look for, the ones that my heart beats for.  The ones I’ve been swimming for.  With the night sky above me, and with only the moonlight as a flashlight, I sigh, wiping my tears.  

I failed. 

I failed my four year old self.  

Who just wanted to be able to fly with the dolphins.

I turn around, head back for home, when I see them.  A pod of dolphins splashing around, squealing in laughter, flying through the air as they jump from the sea.  I rush to them, and they stare.  As if they’re police, I raise my hands in surrender, meaning no harm.  

Not caring about me, they continue their nighttime adventures.

And with nothing to lose, I dive in with them.  And then I fly out with them too. 

They finally understood I wanted nothing from them, except their presence.  

And for that night, I spent it flying with the dolphins.