pájaros en vuelo ❁ ines&haze

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The tears finally stop, and she finally feels as if she can breathe. This room still feels suffocating small, with each person exiting the walls inch ever so closer, threatening to swallow her whole. But she invites it, sitting on the desk so she can swing her feet and pretend she's running off the nerves. Haizea gets so jittery after Mateo leaves, feeling the security blanket she had gotten so comfortable in ripped right off of her, exposed once again. 

She had stopped trying to guess who would walk through next, and made peace with embracing whatever came next. This entire day was so wildly unpredictable, she simply gave up trying to keep up. A feeling of release she grew agitated with altogether - nothing was in her control and she didn't expect that to change anytime soon. 

Wait, where's my necklace? Haizea clutches at her chest before looking around her, checking the floor and the seat and under the desk. They'd have stripped her of it anyways, taking everything but her clothes and ukulele once she boards the train, but it was a gift from her abuela. An amethyst, coiled in silver wire as a hanging pendant, but it seemed to vanish into thin air. Part of her feels stir crazy, am I losing it already? 

When the door is open, Haizea is kneeled on the ground, face to the carpet as she tries to shimmy her hand underneath the bookcase, patting around just in case. 

Nada. She gasps once she notices she's not alone, struggling to pull her arm out from underneath before standing back on her feet. It's a girl she doesn't recognize, not even in passing. "¡Hola!" Haizea says, clasping her hands into each other, trying to mask how awkward she feels as if being a girl in the process of dying wasn't bad enough. Who are you? She begs to ask, but the words feel so tricky coming out - "are we family?"