Sticks & Stones
The fire alarm in the bedroom begins chirping after a morning shower. Funny that water vapor hits the very same spots as fire vapor, seeing as the two are such opposing elements. Anyway. I put down the coffee cup. I grab a hand towel on my way through the kitchen & use it to fan the nervous device - the alarm saying ‘hey I’m about to freak out man’ - until an acceptable level of peace is restored.
A few minutes later, I’m back in the living room w/the coffee when I hear the chirping return. Do you see where this is going? No, you do not.
Again, I put down the cup. Again, I grab the towel. Maybe I’m a cursing a bit more but, again, I fan the air while waiting for resolution. It doesn’t come. It doesn’t come because this time the fire alarm isn’t making a sound. “Chirp.” Startled, I trace the sound out the sliding glass doors to the fire escape, & a leafy stand of branches just beyond. There, looking hopeful & proud, I find the source: a small brown bird.
“Chirp.”
“Copycat,” I say. Then I notice the beautiful sky… thin clouds & early sun, where there lately had been many storms. In another room, my coffee gets cold. I’m late for work.
