He’s always believed in reincarnation—just not like this. He swallows his disappointment, vows to make the best of it. Spends years in sludgy water, mud filling his eyes and mouth, only keeps going because he knows it’ll lead to this.
One single perfect day.
And it’s finally here. He stretches unfamiliar gossamer wings, determined to live his last day to the fullest. These few idyllic hours he soars in sunshine. Dawn gilds the sluggish river. He skims across the burnished surface. Exalting in flight, in his newness and perfection—in just being alive!
A fish rises,
and he’s gone.