She has worn this dress, especially for today. It's the most expensive dress she's ever had--white, gauzy layers with delicate edging. She moves more gracefully in this dress, it seems. It makes her want to dance, and she'll have the chance soon. She'll enter through the doors of the magnificent hall and be surrounded by the most gallant gentlemen in all the county. Oh! She is taking a moment to get her breath before she goes, here in the garden next to a sculputure of a great white bird. It is beautiful and reminds her of everything she wants to be tonight, and everything she wants to feel. Like a wild bird she wants to be free to fly. She wants to be the creature that's most admired.
...
Like a wild bird, she wants to be free to fly. It's no fun in here with these parakeets. The cramped cage, the smelly, damp newspaper. She seems to be the only bird who minds, though. All the others are happily tinkling the bell or looking in the mirror. Paco is beaking his way up and down the right corner of the cage as usual. He never does anything else. She's the only bird that wants to be free. She dreams of nestling down in a patch of grass every night instead of the newspaper shreds she's got. Then she'd wake up to the sun and catch a wind current and just soar all day, riding one gust after another.
She once asked Polly about escaping. Had she ever tried it? Ever know anybird who did? She wanted to know the details. What's the best way to get past the shopkeeper Steve and his little Vietnamese girlfriend? Once you do that, how do you get past the big door? But Polly just stared at her with her beak wide open, so she hadn't brought it up since. Every night though, she dreams of being free.
...
He really did not owe an explanation to anyone. Certainly not her. She always wanted one though and she would keep asking and asking until she got one. Well this time he was gonna fix it so she couldn't ask. So that she'd never be able to ask again, as a matter of fact.
He started making a list. Shells from a tribe of hermit crabs, the eye of a newt (standard fare), the inner frond of a sword fern. Lots of purified water and the special words. That oughtta do it.
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