“How do you know if you never felt the wind on your face?”
He paused. “Well, how do you know?” He slumped down, shoulders caving.
“Your patronizing me!” The voice shouted, shaking out an apology shortly after.
He looked at its eyes. Seeing the worry. The hesitation. The infinite ‘what ifs’ scratching at the back of its eye lids. Leaving them red and sore, with deep lines of pain.
He drew a deep breath. “Thats the point. I.. I never felt the wind on my face. The rush of anxiety of approaching a dream that used to seem impossible. A dream of where you told people and they chuckled out a reply. I need this.” He said, standing. “I want to fly. And it’s because I never felt the wind on my face.”
Written by A. Writes
Alecia Writes 
Cool. We should all feel the wind on our faces eventually.
I agree.