Bird

Written around 2007. I was neck deep in Hemingway at the time. One of my favorites. Don't plan to include too much from my past on this site, but I wanted to share this one.

On this morning there is a pleasant breeze. He walks into his regular café. The door opens; a small bell shakes above but cannot hold its ring. He orders his usual coffee- cream, sugar. The girl who pours his coffee is quite charming; he’s glad that she has such a nice job. She smiles, “Have a nice day.” His eyes drift downward or sideways or any ways besides at her own. He was never good with smiles- never good at picking out the minute differences between the ones that go along with ‘Have a nice day,’ and the ones that coincidentally come before it. No matter, he is away from the counter now and he knows that any conversation that would’ve been won’t. He considers taking his usual seat in the corner of the café, but decides rather to take his coffee outside. There is a pleasant breeze this morning. The café is on a corner, and the seats outside are surrounded by a quaint fence. From here he is aware of the whole city, and is fairly confident that the whole city is unaware of him.

The coffee is hot. He enjoys it like this not as a drink, but as a comfort. A friend walks up and sits at his table for two. “Good morning,” says his friend.

“It is,” he replies. A few cars pass by. He feels sorry for the drivers, because the sun is coming up and most of them will never know that this morning there was a pleasant breeze.

“The baseball team lost last night,” says his friend, flipping through the daily paper. No reply. Looking for one he adds, “That’s the end of the season for them. Better luck next year.”

“Yes, next year.” His voice drifts off. He isn’t paying much attention. His eyes, instead, follow a bird which has landed a few feet from where he sits. He has always liked birds. He envies their freedom. He is not free. He has a car, but to pay for that he has a job. He is not free like a bird. He can’t think about baseball, but he did not want to be rude because there are times he can think about baseball, and he needs baseball for those times. A person walks by and the bird flies into a tree, where it stays content for a few seconds before flying over a building and out of sight. He waits for the bird, staring upward, but it does not return. “I miss that bird.”

“What bird?” His friend folds his paper down and looks up.

“I wish it would have stayed.”

“There are birds all around.” His friend returns to his paper.

“Birds? I suppose. But I liked that bird very much.”

They sit there, the two of them, he sipping his coffee and his friend reading his paper, and the world moves around them.

It is warm now and his cup is empty. His friend checks his watch and gets out of his chair. “Have a nice day,” says his friend smiling.

“I will see you tomorrow morning.” He watches his friend walk down the street until he loses him to everybody else. There are more cars out now and he too has somewhere to go. So he does. Waiting to cross at the corner he turns to a stranger next to him, “So the baseball team lost, eh?”

“Yeah,” says the stranger, “better luck next year.”

He wants to tell this stranger so much more- about the pleasant breeze, and about the girl’s smile, and about the bird, and about how for the first time in as long as he can remember he is happy, even if only for this one morning- but he knows he can't. The light turns and they start to cross. “Yes, next year.”

Reviews

[The_Fox]

One thing that I must say, is I enjoyed reading this story. And more for than just the plot. You see your story spoke to me in a way that I would have never understood when I was younger.

Your awesome story has a meaning hidden within it that easily explains how I feel about my life, and how I too often envy the birds that fly free. Unlike myself haha who I feel is a lot like your main character.

Well done!

[areawakening]

Ah yes! Simple, straightforward writing and subtly hidden meanings definitely held a particular allure for me back during my days of binging on Hemingway- and they still do! I'm glad you were able to enjoy it and pick out some of the more subtextual ideas. I always appreciate feedback :)

[KaylaPotter1216]

I have to admit, I don't much like reading third person because I feel it gives too much away and replaces wonder and the "hook" of the story with fact and knowing before it should. But, you are very good at pulling off the third person. Congrats to you. It had me hooked from the start and made me want to continue reading it. I was even a little disappointed that it had an ending, ha! But this was, is, very beutiful and inspires me as a writer to broaden my perspectives. I found it very well put together, well done. :)

[Writer #00]

I haven't read much Hemingway, to be honest, but the writing style reminds me of a less-rambley Steinbeck (which is a good thing, by the by). I must compliment you on your choice of themes, it is quite intriguing. Freedom from the mechanics of everyday life, feeling obliged to comply to social norms and deny one's self the immediate exploration of another human's soul (the waitress, through a sort of interest) and/or the conveyance of one's own soul to someone else (the person waiting at the light--and even his supposed friend who remained oblivious as the narrator endeavoured to explain the many sensations of suppression, wishfullness, minute-love, and so much more to him). Something about this was quite melancholy to me, perhaps because I--and i believe many others, if not all of us, are at least subconsciously aware of this--feel the same way when existing on this earth, in our time (minus the desire to speak...even on a first-degree basis).

Okay, sorry for rambling, but this story is simply brilliant, so I do have one last thing to say. Great choice of symbols and characters, the waitress (a routine relationship), his friend (an established relationship, and the stranger (with whom we have know relationship). I suppose it is versions of these three that make up a society as each has a chance of evolving int to the other, routine to established into the rare something more (not necessarily romantic), and, sadly, even the established to routine to nothing. The phrasing of the first degree generic baseball conversation was quite ingenious as well, as the "yes, next year" could easily refer to the next day in the narrator's life when he will have yet the same encounters and yet another opportunity to evolve these relationships, to tell the stranger about the pleasant breeze, the waitress (who I notice is now referred to as the girl (was she actually a girl, or more of a woman or lady?) so she has evolved in his mind), and the bird.

Brilliantly told and well done, thank you for sharing this writing with us!

[Katiya K]

This was a spectacular story. I more than enjoyed reading it!

You've laid out such beautiful yet simply details in the scenery, in the characters actions, in his thoughts...yet when you put it all together the meaning of your story and the emotion strikes at the core.

I found it interesting that even though this man who has a car and a job and the time to sit in the coffee house would yearn for freedom. Even though he has so much more than others. He is even allowed to think about freedom and know the meaning of freedom although he's never tasted it.

Which as a writer you have presented the perfect theme or idea of how humans trap or put themselves in their own cage when freedom is right at their finger tips. Or at least, that's what I grasped.

100/100 of course!

[Samuel Jack]

Yeah, modern life can be so insanely monotonous! I saw a screenplay once with a similar feel, you told a lot in a short space. The pacing was good, you could have dragged it on for ages.

Good words.

[Riding the Rainbow]

Simple but very deep..his attention to that bird and its luck to fly away without having problems and obligations..he was more into the nature than into his human life..well done;=))