One recent late winter morning
I entered the kitchen and found the sink window cracked open. I closed it and
scrubbed my hands along my upper arms, my breath forming tiny clouds of white
mist before my face. Beginning my work-day routine, I started the coffee pot
and took the bird food off the shelf. I turned to the cage and dropped the
container. It hit with a smack on the cold tile and skittered in all
directions.
In the cage, instead of my
parakeet Murphy, I found these letters where he would normally be flitting and singing
in the sun shining through the window.
I scanned the room, but
today, no singing and no bird. I circled behind the cage and found pictures on
the backs of the four cards; a flock of white pelicans in flight; a tropical
beach lined with coconut palms; a close-up of one palm with parakeets and
parrots roosting in the branches; the words “Bye bye.”
I sighed and realized I hadn’t
heard Murphy singing for at least a week, and, come to think of it, hadn’t seen
the sun in even longer. I gazed out of the window wishing he’d taken me along.
Tea Leaf Tales is a series of original
ten-sentence short stories by Marsha A. Moore, relating to photos/scenes that
resonate with her.
*~*~*
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