The girl sat on her wheelchair, feet covered with a blanket, looking out to the sea. The wheelchair sunk slightly into the sand, but she loved fingering the granules with her fingers.

Her mother watched her with a placid face—her daughter always told her that she wanted to fly with the seagulls; the girl was born grounded, but it didn’t stop her from dreaming.

The girl’s eyes were slightly glazed, giving the appearance of dull jewels as she watched the white blanket of birds on the ground.

“I still want to fly,” she murmured, eyelids closing partially. The mother’s grip on her daughter’s hand tightened.

“So free,” the girl said, craning her black haired head upwards. “They can go anywhere they want.”

Her mother nodded, tears blurring her vision. “You can, too.”

The daughter smiled faintly, now slumping slightly downwards. “I’m sorry…”

Her hand went limp, and the mother released her tears. She hugged her daughter’s still form as the flock of seagulls spread their wings and glided away.

“Go fly.”