The visitor

A bird tapped on the window with its beak. I looked up from my writing. I said, “Yes, what is it you want?” The bird said something but I couldn’t hear because the window was closed.

I got up from my desk and opened the window. I said, “I’m very busy. What is it?” The bird said, “I was wondering if you’d like to come out and play.” I said, “I’m busy.” The bird said, “I know you were, but now you’re talking to me.” I said, “That’s because you interrupted me.”

The bird said, “Yes, that happened, and now this is happening.” I sighed. I looked back at my desk. I looked at the bird. I sighed a second time. I looked back at my desk.

I went to my desk, lit a match, and set my desk and papers on fire. The fire spread to the rest of the room. I climbed out the window.

I held out my finger. The bird climbed on. I set the bird on my shoulder.

I ran and sang while the bird whistled.