She stares out of the window. The view from the lab makes the debugging exercise just bearable. A swallow flies past the window, then turns and swoops again, around and around in beautiful patterns.
“If only I were free as the swallow, flying, alone, free.” Wistful thinking, her mind wanders away.
The swallow flies past the window. He has not eaten in days: a sudden cold snap killed off all the early spring insects. If only he had stayed north for a few more days, not following the weather but that nagging feeling that it was too early to migrate.