Wings
The thing I miss the most about my time is the wings.
The wings of planes, the wings of birds, the wings of angels.
I miss them all.
Now we stay on the ground.
There's no longer a need to fly, so why should we.
In the city there are no birds. I hear there are birds in the country, like in Slovia where Reuben lives.
Speaking of which, Reuben has convinced the officials in this city to tell him why.
We'll be able to go soon. I couldn't wait. Reuben said the resistance fighters had always wanted another language, so the world couldn't understand them. He told me I should teach them German, that the effort of learning it would help.
I agreed, asking how long.
Soon, he said. Soon.
I've been waiting for a few days. He says that we must have old clothes to get into the resistance. When he says old clothes he means from my era.
Reuben also tells me we must have new clothes to get out of the city.
I cannot teleport, because I am from another era. I tell him I can run, but he tells me there'll be no need. He says that he can teleport the both of us if we're touching.
He tells me we'll be okay, as long as we're together. I nod, understanding.
It's been a day since he left, and I worry. I'm about to leave when he bursts through the front door and says, We must go. Come.
I wrap my arms around him and feel his muscles tense as he concentrates.
I close my eyes, and the next thing I know, Reuben and I are standing in a beautiful countryside. I snap my fingers and we're wearing what he asked me to prepare for entering the resistance fighters.
Did you find out why? I ask.
Yes, he answers. To keep us from getting out of state.
I nod, following Reuben up a hill and looking down to see a small building with a tiny amount of light emanating from it.
Is this it? I ask.
Yes.
Reuben walks down the hill, gesturing for me to follow. He held the door for me, and I entered.
All eyes in the room turned towards us. Reuben smiled at an older waitress.
Hello, mum. How's the weather? He asks.
Oh, good you're back. The weather's lovely, but I hear a  storm's coming in from the west, she said as everyone watched Reuben for his response.
Yes, I saw it on the way in. Ruthie's waited a long time to meet you. He pushed me up.
How long exactly? She questioned.
I answered in German as Reuben had asked.
Zwei hundert Jahre, Frau. I had been waiting that long. Sprechen Sie Deutsch?
The woman smiled, turning to everyone else. This is Ruthie, the girl who never ages.
The people cheered, for they had been waiting for my arrival.
Reuben smiled at me, his blue eyes sparkling. Good job, we're home.
I grinned. Thank you, danke.
You're welcome. Then he led me to a table at which five other people sat. He sat down, and I followed suit.
I'm Ruthie, I'm two hundred and nine. I look nine, though. I introduced myself to the group, and they introduced themselves as Reuben's family; his father was Michael, his sisters were Helene and Rose, his brothers were Kris and Max, and his mother, Goya, was the waitress who had spoken to us upon entry. I was hungry, so Reuben passed me a menu and I ordered chicken noodle soup.
As I ate I listened to the chatter around me. Reuben's family was discussing the resistance fighters' next move.
Who will it rain on next, Papa? Rose asked, tracing circles on the table with her index finger.
I wish it would rain on Boise, Idaho, Michael said. I frowned.
What about my room? I asked. My room and I are all humanity has left of the past. My room is in Boise.
She has a point, Dad, Reuben commented. The room she slept in for the past two hundred years is the only remnant of her era we have left.
I know that, son, but Boise is dry, and if it doesn't rain soon the dryness will spread and the creatures who live there will come to us and take our food. Michael told him. Boise needs the rain, if only it could.
I miss the wings.
Especially the angels' wings.