Full Speed Into A Tuesday

I love birds. I really do. Every morning they wake up the street with those sweet, delicate little whistles. The bright red cardinals chasing each other through the wet grass. Splashing in puddles after the rain… sharing seeds on the fence… living in this perfect, innocent world where gravity feels optional. [GENTLE, PRETTY ACOUSTIC GUITAR & CHIMES] I stand by the glass with my coffee… smiling like an idiot. Thinking… *Look at them.* No rent. No regrets. Just pure, weightless freedom. And then… this beautiful cardinal swoops down. Red wings catching the light. So close. It turns its head toward me in mid-air… almost like it’s saying hello. [MUSIC CUTS ABRUPTLY — VIOLENT GLASS CRACK & THUD] **WHAM.** [DEAD SILENCE — LOW DRONE HUMS IN] Just… stopped. Elegance… meet four-millimeter double-pane tempered glass. [UNSETTLING, FAINT WHEEZING ACCORDION / DETUNED CELLO] It hit so hard it left a grease smudge of its own face on the window. And now it’s just… down there. Upside down in the mulch. One little twig leg stuck straight in the air. Beak slightly open. And one glossy, unblinking black eye… staring directly up into my living room. [NERVOUS, QUIET CHUCKLE] Not flying anymore. Not singing. Just… a sudden, violent lesson in physics. I stood there for ten minutes holding my mug… wondering if the sky is actually real… or if one day… I’m going to run full speed into a Tuesday… and find out the horizon is just a very clean wall.