Geese rise from the campus soccer field, into the evening. Wings flutter in unison. No stragglers.
You should be on the way home. But you watch, transfixed, the weight of homework, loneliness sliding from consciousness.
The geese honk, harsh, soothing, moon on their wings. You like to think it’s joy, that they sense the vastness of unfettered space. They don’t give a fuck about the observers and voyeurs below.
You wish you could join. Fly, part of a team. They fly farther and farther, still calling. Don’t look behind.
All too soon, night engulfs them. You stride home, feet heavy, treading constraint.
Mir-Yashar Seyedbagheri is a graduate of Colorado State University's MFA program in fiction. His work has been published or is forthcoming in journals such as A Story In 100 Words, Unstamatic, Aromatica Poetica, and Ariel Chart.