Sinestra

Yasmine killed Benno.

Today, walking back home for lunch, i almost walked straight past Benno, thinking he was a flickering leaf in the middle of the road. Benno, in fact, turned out to be a little ball of feathers, & a feisty one too. He must have fallen out of his nest, & not only too young to fly back up, but unable to hold onto the branches i tried to put him on, falling to the ground & running out into the road again. He didn't seem to be a sparrow, and had wispy eyebrows, reminiscent of an owl or a merry sort of grandfather; he hopped into my left hand & i took him home.

I left him in a box with fallen flowers & twigs; a bowl of water & some bread soaking in it, & left him to close his eyes & sleep, with the faint hum of a heartbeat that young birds always have. I left him with my mother, told her to keep an eye on him & make sure that my little sister wouldn't frighten him when she got home from school.

After work & then an, um, interesting, but lovely cup of tea at Greg's, i went to visit my friend's brand new baby boy, who is so gorgeous & bright. I really do want the very best for them both.

At about 9 'o clock tonight, we came back to find Benno drowned.

My sister had put a wide bowl, filled to the brim with water, in his box despite the number of times my mother had told her not to because he would fall in & choke, & Benno was nothing but a feathered skeleton, limp & wet in my hands. I tried CPR- a little water did come out of his mouth & nostrils- & blew gently into his mouth, but i don't know if what i felt was that familiar tremor, or the pulse in my own fingers which held him.

Eventually i took him outside, wishing that his mother would find him & care for him... he grew heavier in my hands as i walked back outside, & i would love to believe that he was slowly awakening.

Oh no.

Orchid