I just walked my dog, but the minute I stepped outside, everything felt suddenly surreal. It’s , but the sky is lavender purple, the color it gets right before it snows, but…there’s no snow in the forecast. It’s foggy out, and the air is cool, moist, still smelling of freshly fallen rain. The birds are chirping away like it’s 6 in the morning.
I walk down the street and back again. Nobody is out, no cars on the road. Where is everyone?
The only sounds I hear are my own footsteps, my dog’s paws tentatively tapping on the pavement, and his tags jingling on his collar. And the birds. What are they doing up so late? Are they as confused as I am by the strangeness of this night?
I get back to the front of my house and find the culprit: one loudly chirping bird sitting high on a wire, stirring up all the other birds in the neighborhood. What could he be saying? I climb the front stairs, and my dog and I stop. It seems we are both wondering about that bird. Finally, it gives one last chirp and flies away.
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