5am and the bird blurts out its notes. No mind for structure, only for putting out what’s naturally within.
And it was beautiful. Like a bee effortlessly humming along, spreading the sweet of tomorrow’s fruit, without even knowing.
The man saw it and found it useful. He gave the bird a meal and a shirt— —a uniform. The food gave the bird comfort, and the shirt held its wings nice and tight.
5am and the bird clocks in. The man asked for the same notes. The bird wrote them down and stamped it at the notary, and then performed, even though he had something else inside, waiting in line to come out.
And it was heartbreaking. Like a bee trying to extract nectar from a flower painted on canvas.