Zephyr's Whispering Flight

Zephyr was a living leaf in the wind. A flame-crested gecko with lashes like a dream, she was arboreal poetry. Her world was vertical, and she mapped the ceiling of her terrarium, the curtains, and even the tops of bookshelves with sticky-footed confidence. Her jumps were breathtaking—a calculated crouch, then a spring into space, landing with a soft *pat* and an immediate, unshakable grip. She was most alive at night, her dark eyes wide, licking moisture from leaves and hunting tiny fruit flies. Her soft chirps and clicks were the soundtrack to our evenings. The air itself feels less magical now, missing the possibility of her sudden, graceful traversal from one world to another.