Created: 2022-08-14 14:51 | Updated: 2022-08-14 15:08 | Source: mobile.iphone
Florence would greet him each morning as she sat on her back porch. The bird would feed off of breadcrumbs she’d leave for it. As it ate from the breadcrumbs she would hear a voice. She knew it wasn’t coming from the bird. It sounded human.
Birds can speak like us, she told herself.
But she couldn’t come up with any other explanation. Each morning before school and even on Sundays before church, the bird would arrive like clockwork. And each time it began to eat, she would hear the voice.
Maybe this event happened when F wandered out into the cotton field. She escaped into the cotton. As she lay down in the alley of dirt she imagined that she was in a magical place. She was far removed from Lamesa Texas with it’s single diner, post office, school and Baptist church.