Seven

 AFTER

Lily

Tap-tap-tap.

I wake up to tapping sounds at the glass window facing the empty backyard of Dad's rented bungalow, I could hear the loud  tapping in my sleep. 

Bleary eyed and with a curse at my lips, I pull the silk sandy beige curtains away and I see the form of tiny cute birds pecking at the glass window with their small black beaks. 

My irritation fades away and I can't help admiring their gorgeous cloth of  feathers. The poor fools probably think their reflection is another bird. A pair of white birds with bright green and white feathers and a lone black and white bird with whiskers are next to it.

They remind of when Luc was Lucie and we used to bury birds that died by flying head on into our window.

I wake Krystal up, hug him good morning and whisper that little birds came to greet him. He presses his palms to the glass and