FOUR CALLING BIRDS
by Harper Kingsley
Vereint and Melissa were singing some song in the kitchen, their voices joining together in a hum of sound. Warrick was relaxing in his recliner, his feet lifted and his head sunk deep in the cushion.
He was so completely relaxed he didn’t think he could move if he wanted. He didn’t want to.
He yawned and closed his eyes. Warm and content, he could feel himself drifting off.
The humming of their voices in the kitchen rang through his mind. Louder and louder, reverberating and expanding, echoing until the number of voices seemed to double, triple, multiplying in exponential growth.
He swam in a lake of sound. Splashed up onto sandy shores where brightly colored birds swooped and swirled like petals on the wind.
He breathed in the crisp freshness of the air and listened to the birds sing.
Four voices. No, two.
The voices of the people he loved. Singing in his home, making it a home.
He relaxed, completely content.
He could move, but he didn’t want to.
=END=
