Evelyn sat perched atop of the roof, shrouded in her own shadows, the pale green light of the moon shining down on her. It was still hard to get used to, looking up and seeing the moon glowing a radiant green light. She looked down at the streets below, casually observing the people. *They’re all so insignificant*, she thought. *If only they knew.* She wondered what they were thinking, wondered if any of them were supers. If so, what powers would they have? She was becoming obsessed with her . . .

 Evelyn sat perched atop of the roof, shrouded in her own shadows, the pale green light of the moon shining down on her. It was still hard to get used to, looking up and seeing the moon glowing a radiant green light. She looked down at the streets below, casually observing the people. *They’re all so insignificant*, she thought. *If only they knew.* She wondered what they were thinking, wondered if any of them were supers. If so, what powers would they have? She was becoming obsessed with her . . .

A Note from the Author:

I met Dr. Linda Deltare during a birding festival at West Virginia’s New River Gorge in the spring of 2010. I was struck by the enthusiasm of this elegant, elderly lady as she observed a constellation of Starlings sweeping through the sky. I remember her looking away from her binoculars excitedly exclaiming, “Did you see how they responded in unison to the leader’s chip call?”

She focused her gaze right at me, and since there was no one else was nearby, and. . .