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'I thought you were my friend!' I pulled my hand away from his and plunged down. I skidded down the slope. It was so easy to go down, to let go, gravity was on my side, helping me. Pebbles rolled along me and I was free. Free of him, free of the struggle of climbing. I laughed out loud and my laugh hit the rock and the trees. A delicious sound; the pleasure of scrunching snails with my feet.
I could go faster now, blind with laughter. Green blur of trees, wind, the spot where we had prayed.... I slipped and hit my hip against a rock, grazed my face against thistle. So this was how my blood looked, sticky and red. And that buzzing sound... I was being cursed by the grass, the thorns, the snails I hadn't killed. They knew my name and complained about me. I looked up and saw two angels move apart, take out pens and start to write. Their light hurt my eyes, I blinked and turned away. But I saw him. I saw him fly. Not like a bird, not like an eagle but as if he had stepped on an invisible escalator. His body still, only the ripple of the wind in his clothes.
'Stand up', he was now by my side. I thought he was angry but he was out of breath, exerted by the flight, by pressing his will against gravity.
'I can't stand up'.
He knelt next to me, close enough so that I could smell him, watch the colours flicker in his eyes. I had not known that he had reached the level of flight. It was something about him I hadn't known.
'Make me better', I said. The blood still oozed out from the wound in my knee.
When I finished crying I stood up and dusted myself.
'Why are we climbing?' he asked, as if I had never ran away, as if I was forgiven.
'I don't know, I don't know. I just want to be with you'.
Then there was so much kindness in his eyes, in the touch of his hand. We started walking.
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