Release

by Ursula Brennan

A bitter wind blew out of a leaden sky, ruffling the feathers of a scrawny sparrow looking in vain for stray crumbs. It also blew dust down the throat of Miss Fane, who was walking aimlessly down the street. It made her cough, which was far from unusual for Miss Fane. These days it seemed that she coughed eternally. She drew her mangy fur collar closer about her throat and walked on blindly. She had gone back to her room a few minutes before and found her door locked. Miss Fane was not so surprised at this occurrence as she might have been. Things had been going so badly for the last few days that she wouldn't have been astounded if the world had tumbled down around her ears.

She thought, looking at the few remaining heaps of dark gray snow that still lingered at the edge of the sidewalk, of her home in Minnesota where the snow was still white and deep, and where inside her house there would be a log fire on the hearth. Warmth—that seemed far away now, when her fingers and toes were numb—and she had nowhere to go. She was alone - all alone. In a city where millions lived, she was alone.

The height of the buildings seemed to press down upon her, holding her a prisoner in this bleak city. Oh, yes, her home was far away now, and there was no going back, no going back. Her eyes filled with tears of loneliness. She felt terribly sorry for herself.

Perhaps that was the reason she didn't see the truck as it sped round the corner, but suddenly she was caught underneath a weight that was crushing the life out of her, and she seemed enveloped by one vast flame that blinded her and covered her with a heat like a furnace. Then, suddenly, she had a strange sensation of passing over a boundary of something vital, a boundary which she could never cross again. It was cool new, and there was a rustling, like wings in the dark. She was free.