Seventh Year,-- Dizzy.

"You're my only friend, Pidgeoto."

The little girl kissed the young chicken on its head and placed it on her lap. She gently kicked her legs, making the swing drift back and forth as she hummed a tune.

The sky was blue and clear--a blanket of silk over the Texas horizon. Haystacks and stubby trees dotted her sight, turning shades darker as the sun melted in the west and the vapor moon condensated on the glass shell of the atmosphere.

The sky dimmed and shimmered; less of a blue, now, and more of an azul--or an azúcar. Sugar. The sky must taste like sugar, thought the little girl aloud to her feathery companion. What do you think? Pidgeoto fluffed himself and cocked his head to the side.

Between the gravitational pull of the moon and the swing, the little girl imagined herself flying in the air--soaring with Pidgeoto nearby. Higher and higher into the sugar sky until the swing set and the haystack and the trees turned into specks--tiny chocolate chips on the cookie of Texas as the earth swallowed the sun and the icicle moon glowed brighter.