They set up home in the middle distance; no man's land between left and wrong. Inside the outside...no door...no key...no foundation. No ears on the walls, no deadends in the living rooms. It was cold out in the open, it was pointless pain. They quietly wished their time away...everyday.
He spoke in bursts of birdsong...short notes of joy and misery. I fed him seed, worms and balls of bacon fat. The local crows saw through him. He was a fake...I only wish they'd shared this information...I would have flown away.