The aroma of baking bread wafted down the alley and mingled with the stink of the city. Kai looked up at the narrow strip of sky above her head, the light pollution rendering the stars invisible. She opened the bottle of cola and gulped down its lukewarm contents, a stray drop running down her pointed chin and wobbling there, as if contemplating what to do next. It decided that the ground was a good idea, and took the leap. Oblivious to the episode on her chin, she started to sprint towards the street, as it was getting late.
Kai glanced at her reflection on one of the shop windows and straightened her coat. Her conservative aunt hadn’t approved of the Rolling Stones logo on her t-shirt, and certainly wouldn’t have appreciated the absence of the coat either. She’ll be here only for a week, she remembered her mother saying about a month ago. She slowed down to a leisurely stroll. Kai didn’t feel the need to hurry home anymore. Her phone beeped at that moment, interrupting her favorite song. Can you get bread on your way home? She ignored the beep and walked on.
Out on the sea, we’d be forgiven. The song reminded her of deserted alleyways and dimly-lit streets, much like the one she was passing through now, and, of course, of the sea. For her, the sea was a reminder of the illusion that life provides. She wasn’t sure whether it made her feel insignificant or not, but the sound of the waves crashing on the shore was calming, nonetheless. A reminder of the seemingly random yet vaguely deliberate quality of nature, she thought. The future is certain of its uncertainty.
Her train of thought was suddenly interrupted by an uncharacteristic spot of brown on the usually clean, grey pavement. Kai hunkered down beside the small brown feathered package to get a better look. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the street, she made out a tiny beak, a minuscule body of a sparrow, with one of its wings splayed out. She gently scooped up the sparrow in her hands, careful to not let her big clumsy hands squeeze the delicate body. It lay there, on her palms, cold and still. She walked to a well-lit street and stood under one of the lamp posts to study it better. You poor thing. It looked like it had died of natural causes, probably breathing its last a few minutes before she had crossed its path. The sparrow looked peaceful, all pretty feathers that had barely been scrunched up. She patted the tiny head. What were you thinking before you died? What did birds think about? Did they think of the sea as well? Were you listening to the whistle of the wind as it passed between your wings? Or were you solely looking for a place to die in without being plucked up by predators? Birds thought simple thoughts about death. Where to die, how to die, when to die. What to live for. Kai looked up at the sky, as if to ask it, What were you thinking when this sparrow died? Did you grieve for it? Of course, she knew that the sky wasn’t capable of any kind of thought, but how would the bird know that? For it, the sky used to be its home. Somebody had to grieve for it.
Only one or two cars sped past as she thought. The night was quiet. Kai took the bird to the beach, her curfew and bread forgotten. The beach was almost empty, except for a few revelers who knew nothing of dead sparrows. Maybe they do know of it, they’re probably ignoring it because it isn’t convenient to think of dead birds at a party? She chuckled to herself. What would she know of parties? The chuckles turned into hysteria. As she shook with laughter, apparently alone at the beach, the sparrow appeared to be laughing too, quietly, in her quivering palm. She wiped away the tears of laughter and sauntered towards the sea. Gently setting the bird aside, she dug a hole in the sand. I should make her a grand sand castle when I come back tomorrow, a worthy tomb to lie in. She picked up the bird and laid it in the hole. Kai took one last look at the bird, a tiny question mark that wasn’t aware of its nature, lying peacefully in the hole she had dug. She wept for the bird that had lived (for what, only the bird knew), chanted a little prayer to the gods she knew and didn’t know, and buried the bird. She contemplated the waves that gently lapped at the shore, close to where she was kneeling. The sea was calm, praying with her. She wrote a memorial quote on the sand where it was now lying. Sparrow, 20– to 2017. She Knew Where To Die. She knew that the sea would keep this little secret for her, this little question mark, and she loved the sea for it.
Her phone beeped again. Where are you? Don’t forget the bread. She didn’t forget it this time.
The Elephant in the Room 