We Were Meant to Fly

"Don't you understand, Lizzie? Don't you get it?" she giggled, her pink dress fluttering in the wind. "We can do whatever we want to."

"And if we want to fly?" I asked, staring up at the cloudless, blue sky.

She grabbed my hands and pulled me up out of the grass. She twirled, arms splayed out to catch the air. I laughed at her happiness, and she turned back to me. Her black hair was blowing around her face, those blue eyes gleaming, her lips tilted upwards in a wicked grin.

"Well, then we can, Lizzie. We were meant to."