you wrap the cornbread in a blanket to keep it warm, singing it to sleep with the famously known lullaby, america the beautiful, before you run out the front door.
your family takes little to no notice, only a curious uncle peeking out the window to watch your departure.
you sprint through the dirt streets you've mapped in your head, shivering in the cold, night air.
up ahead you stumble upon a particularly suspicious crow, prancing in the street like a hooligan.
"how dare you!" you spit in the bird's direction. "such disgraceful behavior for something as young as yourself, who raised you?"
the crow cocks its head.
you gasp.
"how dare you speak so lowly of me! i am far more than you will ever be, you ugly flying rat."
the crow caws at this remark and suddenly darts at you like the sonic, its wings knocking you back.
in this split, slow-motion moment, the cornbread flies out of your arms, spreading its own angelic wings and soaring with the crow in an elegant dance.
in the next split, not so slow-motion moment, you smack your head on the dirt road like a doofus. and you pass out. that happens too.
