The Girl That Could Fly Clarity can be difficult to work with, and as Silvia stared out of her economy seat window, she found it hard not to scream. Obscuring the light was the face of a demon, its features long and drawn, bones growing in sharp ridges along its face and tugging painfully at the skin. Eyes of winter blue stared piercingly back at her, blonde hair pulled long and straight by the wind, it appeared to cling onto the side of the plane. Silvia looked to the middle-aged businessman with his gut hanging out and his hair cut short in admission of loss. He stared intensely into his laptop screen as he played cards. Silvia searched around to see if anyone else had seen, then fearfully returned her gaze to the window.
Okay, I listened to all the comments, and came out with something a little different.
I met you in the supermarket one day By the takeaway counter Surrounded by an aroma of curry and stacks of sweet cakes In a layered metal display That always manages to reach out and jab me in the hip Every time I struggle the tipsy trolley past Trailed by numbers Two and Three
I found you under my desk Cleaning my shoes and begging for mercy I kept you there all day With treats and threats And a crack of my multi-tailed feline friend And an imperious point of my finger As you tried to climb out