Author: Julian Miles, Staff Writer

The curtains hang out the window, blowing in the breeze. A tic starts on his cheek, but stills when he looks down, gaze drawn to where a torn page from her notebook flaps about in his grip, like a little bird trying to escape.

Far down the road a girl in the faded red pinafore dress her grandmama made for her mama sits on a battered metal suitcase with ‘04-K64-FB’ etched on both sides. She reads what she’s just written, pocketing the pen while doing so. Ripped paper prevents the notebook closing properly, so she spends a while picking it out, staring at each fragment for a few moments before letting it blow away.

He strides around the house and back into the kitchen, all the time glancing about, like he expects someone to be there. With an annoyed grunt, he turns, then stops and swings back to the table. There’s a breakfast spread laid out just how he likes it. But only for one. Looking up, he sees the pan’s on the hob. There’s a jug with a fork in it stood nearby. Everything is there, except ingredients – and cook.

The weekly skiff sets down so she can disembark on the apron outside Sandoolie Port. She waits until the cloud of dust from it’s departure clears, then walks up to the gate, suitcase in one hand, docket pack in the other.
“State your business.”
The access droid doesn’t wait for an answer, scanning her docket pack as it asks the question. A side gate opens. She enters after pausing with one foot inside, eyes narrowing as she glances back.

The flitter sits in the barn. He checks it carefully. It hasn’t been tampered with. He can run it out whenever he wants. He jumps in, then just sits there, watching dust devils spin through the morning. The crystals within them reflect the sunlight as they pass the wide doorway. The ghost of a smile flits across his face as he recalls how she’d loved those flickers: ‘like there’s lightning inside’.

The port is very noisy. Just like mama cautioned her, she keeps to the centre of the main walkways, watching for signposts and ignoring shouted enquiries.

It’s midday before he leaves the barn, wiping his hands clean after servicing the harvester ‘bot, a job he’s been meaning to do for-
Since she died.

There! A firefly class vessel about to leave, already hooked to the swing-launch gantry, but still with it’s ramp down. Mama always said they never close up until the last minute.

After picking fragments of shell from the eggs before he fried them, he finds they’re still crunchy in places. He hurls the plate across the room. It smashes against the stained patch on the wall.

There’s a purple-haired woman in a floral-print shipsuit gazing at her with a look of wonder.
“You look just like her.”
The girl nods.
“Grandmama said so too.”
“You come to visit or leave?”
“Leave. I’m not dying waiting for him to change. Mama did that.”
“I’m so sorry. My name’s Jewel. Come aboard. Welcome to the Firebird.”
As she carries her mother’s suitcase through the cargo bay, Jewel sees the determination in her eyes. The will to make the one choice her mother never could: to fly free.

Pulling the torn page from his pocket, he reads it again, brow furrowing. The distant thunder of a ship departing Sandoolie interrupts his concentration. He snarls, crumples the page, and tosses it out the window.
The wind takes it before he can snatch it back.