Anni wasn’t crazy; she knew what she was seeing: the crows, hundreds, ornamenting the power line running alongside the road, all smiling down at her, the woman flying by in the passenger seat of her son’s car. They smiled, she smiled. Anni aligned her gaze to follow the line, imagining an electric hum beneath her feet. Each crow looked the same to her, but she tried training her eyes to acknowledge each one, though the speed of the car made this difficult. Anni knew that one of these days, someone else would be looking out the passenger side window and see her perched up on the line, indistinguishable from the other feathered masses observing the scattered traffic below. They would think of Anni as any other bird, and Bird-Anni wouldn’t know anything of it. This was one of the few things Anni was sure about: sometime soon, she would die, and sometime later, she would live again, reemerging into life as a bird.