{drabble} On the counter.

The little boy walked into the room, his eyes drawn to it, laying there on the edge of the counter, gleaming in the midday sun. It seemed to whisper to him, calling him. He shook his head, knowing it was forbidden, but the feeling persisted. He walked forward til his nose brushed the countertop.

His hand reached up, slowly. He could feel its heat and was frightened, but continued. His fingers brushed it, and he was startled to find it’s surface soft. He touched it, lifting it off the counter, wrapping his fingers around it.

Wings burst from his back! He gasped, then threw his head back and laughed long and loud. He raced out the front door, and flew up and away into the brilliant blue sky.

Β