It's been a month since you've moved into your new apartment. Already the creaking of the old wood floors have become a familiar rhythm in your morning routine. It's only 9 in the morning but already the summer sun is pouring in through the sheer lace curtains creating a dance of lemon hued flowers and leaf shadows against the floor and walls as a breeze ruffles trees outside. You walk barefoot across the room to open the windows, the lightweight gauze of your floral skirt lifts a bit higher with the pep in your step.
Fiddling with the lock on the window (oh bless the charm of old vintage windows, but curse the frustration of rusted hardware!) you realize the window might just stay shut after all and no morning breeze will graze through your apartment this day. But you're determined! You push at the spring lock with as much force as you can muster and it finally gives way. You begin to wiggle the old wood window frame open hoping you haven't done any sort of permanent damage to ensure a full return of your deposit. (Oh the woes and pleasures of living in a vintage home!)
The window barely opens, it's stuck! You glance around the frame and that's when you catch the tiniest sliver of a yellow feather tucked in between the panes. Gingerly, you remove the feather from it's hiding place and trace it's shape with your fingers. Then you notice, written in small black script, a name and a message written along the ridge. "Sylvia. Remember to fly. - A.G."